Only Human
by peanutbutter126
Summary: There are countless ways to kill and torture a person. When he is forced to kidnap a dead man's daughter, Naruto Uzumaki has to acknowledge that love is the deadliest blade of them all. Modern-fic.
1. That Night

I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.

* * *

**Chapter 1: That Night**

If Naruto was an artist, he would have described it as beautiful, a masterpiece.

The target was sprawled in the middle of the room, arms and legs spreadeagled like a child's in the process of making snow angels. His bathrobe lay open, revealing a modest physique for a man his age. If it weren't for the hole in his chest and the jagged line slashed across his neck, Kazuo Haruno would have resembled Da Vinci's _Vitruvian Man_. Bathed in a stream of blood that oozed steadily from his wounds and cloaked him like a silk blanket.

Heartless, Naruto often reminded himself to be. In Kazuo Haruno's case, it was sadistically sardonic. A deep plunge in the chest, precisely where Naruto's sufficient study of human anatomy told him the heart would be, followed by a swift, deliberately amateurish slash to the throat. The man was dead before the first drop of blood slid down the knife's blade and blossomed on the fine carpet.

It was supposed to look like a robbery. The details he had been given told him that Kazuo Haruno's death could not cause major political complications. His death was not accepted to have been deliberately. A robbery was suggested. Voracity for wealth, a proletarian thief skilled enough to dismantle the security systems and evade the patrols.

Naruto had been particularly careful about arranging the businessman's office to depict the evident carnage of a struggle – a struggle that had not been scaled as destructive enough to have alerted the meagre guards. He had brought a latex glove with him. After pressing the dead man's hand to imprint his fingerprints onto the latex, Naruto had gone around the room knocking over various objects and heaving furniture from their posts to strengthen the illusion. The thief's prints would not be there, of course; no criminal was thick enough to leave his identity exposed. Leather gloves – traceless.

His job done, Naruto stood over the body, paying one last tribute to the man he had just killed. According to his research, Kazuo Haruno had been a relatively good man during his life. His tastes in furnishing were modest, unlike snobbier men of wealthy background Naruto had come across. A man who owned a network of water systems and poured assets to research ways to deliver clean water to areas that didn't have it. A man of no crime but to have become a name that had appeared on Naruto's list.

It was time to leave. He had already spent too long lingering in the estate. Nodding in phantom respect to the bleeding body, Naruto turned away, reached for his mask.

A knock on the large, oak doors.

Freezing, Naruto turned back to face the complication. He stepped back into the shadows by the door, merging with them, becoming a non-substance. Carefully, he drew his knife from its scabbard. A large, ornate desk blocked the body from immediate view from the door. He would disarm the person before he or she could raise the alarm. Yes, Naruto decided, pressing himself further against the wall, eyes slits as they peered out from the darkness, he would do it like that.

Another knock, this time hastier, getting impatient.

The knife gleamed in the darkness.

A faint rattling from the other side and the heavy doors eased open, hinges oiled well enough to produce no sound. A shadow cast onto the floor, dark against the lights from the hallway.

"Father?" a soft feminine voice called out.

Naruto struck. He was a shadow come alive, the deadliest menace. The hilt of the knife crushed into the side of the girl's head, enough force levered behind the half-swing to drop her almost instantly. She gave a startled cry, hardly enough to draw attention, and then crumpled. Motionless.

He didn't want to kill her. Naruto Uzumaki detested killing anyone outside of his target circle. It was needless and futile. He had probably hit her a little harder than necessary. Something glistened wetly amidst the girl's hair. Blood. Concussion was inevitable, not to mention the hell of a headache she would have when she woke. If she woke at all. It was no unsupported theory that skulls of females were thinner than that of males. Naruto would know; he had smashed dozens of the latter and enough of the former.

Edging around the fallen body, weapon still clutched, Naruto knelt slowly in front of the girl. She was lying on her side, her eyes closed. Shallow breaths heaved from her chest, shuddering out her mouth. Alive. Considering she was found before the blood clotted internally, she would live.

Judging from the way she had addressed Kazuo Haruno – there was no one else who had the liberty to occupy the main study in the middle of the night – the girl was likely the businessman's daughter, Sakura, if Naruto had done his homework properly. His trained eye flickered over her features briefly. The notes hadn't been able to offer much information on Sakura Haruno. She had a strange hair colour, he observed. Pink, and it didn't look like it had been dyed, other than the crimson stain that was gradually spreading, making its way past her ear and beginning to trickle down her face.

Naruto sighed and put away his knife. He really had outstayed his welcome.

Just as he was reaching for his mask again, the girl's eyelids fluttered open, revealing emerald orbs that were glazed with pain. Naruto stiffened. They were staring at him. His face, to be specific, yet to be covered by his mask. He yanked the material up, sealing his identity, but it was already too late. The girl had noticed her father's body behind the desk, and if the legs that protruded and the blood pooled around it were any indication, she knew he was dead.

She screamed.

Her agonised cry was cut off when Naruto's hand slammed down on the back of her head, forcing her face into the carpet. Her voice was muffled, and she struggled against him, feebly groping at his arms with her hands. Her fingers found the sleeve of the dark suit he had donned, and her nails scraped against his forearm, breaking the skin. Grimacing, Naruto pushed down harder. At last, Sakura Haruno was silenced. Her hand fell limply onto his lap.

But she had already done enough harm. Already, footsteps were thundering down the hallway. Naruto had memorised the Haruno estate's blueprints, and he knew that the guard room was just around the corner from the study. He could still make a break for it. He would make it, he had confidence in his abilities. Kazuo Haruno had his office on the ground level. If Naruto could just dive out the window from where he had broken in…

But the girl. He glanced back hesitantly at her. There was the possibility that she was still alive. He had only forced pressure against the point he had already injured her, and it was unlikely that she had suffocated on the carpet. Even if she was no longer breathing, she would not stay that way long enough for it to be permanent. She would be found, brought to medical treatment. Saved.

Why the hell did Naruto care? Because she had residue scraps of his skin and blood, his DNA, under her fingernails where she had scratched him, and it would only take a simple investigation to unearth him. Because she had seen his face. Because she was a witness, evidence. He could slit her throat now, like he had done with her father. Naruto's fingers twitched, and then he raised the blade.

But he had left it too long. Already, shadows were charging into sight. Servants, maids. Guards. He could see them now, with their guns. Handguns that weren't likely to fire more than six shots, but when it was three against one, odds were not good. Naruto had not brought his own firearm. In the case – impossible, he'd thought, until now – that he was caught, his contract did not allow him to endanger the client. If he was found with a gun, suspicions would be raised about the death. No, he had only his knife. And no matter how fast and accurate he could throw it, it could not race a bullet.

Naruto leapt to his feet and did the only thing he could. He took Sakura Haruno with him, held her in front of his body. A shield. She was heavy and limp in his arms.

"Miss, what-" The guard's sentence was bitten off and the guns raised to firing height. "Intruder!"

"Don't move," Naruto warned, pressing the knife against his hostage's slim, exposed neck. "I'll kill her before you can fire." His voice was calm, controlled, confident. His tone left no room for disagreement. He would kill Sakura Haruno without blinking if he had to. "The father's dead; you don't want the daughter to follow." The leather hilt was slippery in his hands. Blood, from Sakura's head wound.

The men hesitated. Kazuo Haruno had not hired the professional muscle, rather those that were aging steadily and had children at home. Any training these men might have undergone had long since expired pitifully. After all, it wasn't like anyone tried to assault the Harunos on a regular basis. They weren't even considered a threat.

The servants behind them cried out. One edged toward the door. Naruto took a step back, tugged Sakura with him. "Stay there! No contact." To demonstrate his control of the situation, he pressed the blade against the girl's neck, drawing a thin red line on the pale skin.

A bulky man with a moustache and age that neared retirement more than prime, seemingly the one in charge, grimaced, his beady eyes flickering from what he could see of Kazuo Haruno's body to his daughter's unconscious form. "Alright," he said after a long pause. "Let Miss Haruno go. We will allow you to leave the premises. Just leave the girl."

Naruto almost snorted. How dense did they think he was?

This was exactly why he despised these sort of kills, where the method was specified and crudely chosen. Naruto preferred to be the king's dark-intentioned jester. People warmed to him, no matter what disguise he wore. They trusted him, believed him to be who he claimed to be, laughed at his antics, allowed themselves to be left alone with him, resigned themselves to their fate. Even if he knocked on their door and the first words he uttered were "I am your death", they would still let him in and be fooled by his friendly demeanour. It was so much less messy than these rudimentary methods. All that blood spilt… but as long as the target was dead, Naruto's mission was done. It was all that mattered, right?

He was almost by the window now, further away than he would like, but still manageable. The girl had to come with him. If she didn't, the guards would assault him on his escape. He had a hostage. They would hold their fire.

"Fine," he called to his company. He bent at the knees, coiled his muscles. "I'll leave the girl. I don't need her anyway."

The guards' gun arms lowered slightly, uncertainly.

Naruto grabbed hold of Sakura Haruno and, with relative ease, tossed her outside, onto the lawn. Before the first alarmed shot was fired, he was following her, rolling with the fall. Behind him, the open pane of glass fractured into spiderwebs. Bullet-proof glass, perhaps the only efficient security measure Kazuo Haruno had installed. The dead man had probably saved him; Naruto couldn't be certain, but when he glanced back, his quick analysis told him that the bullet would have more likely embedded itself into the back of his right shoulder than not. Not that he had time to be pondering projectile trajectories. Quickly tossing the unconscious girl onto his back, Naruto ran.

Having a hostage was much more bothersome than the Hollywood movies made it out to be. They were a burden and restricted movement. Naruto would have a much better chance of reaching his car, where he had parked it outside the estate barrier, away from patrol routes, if he didn't have to haul an unconscious girl with him. But he couldn't leave Sakura Haruno. She was evidence - a loose end. That was crime enough for the Agency to terminate him with a good conscience.

Shouts were already coming from the estate, some distantly echoing from elsewhere on the grounds. Lights were flickering on. They were too slow. With their young mistress strewn over his back, the guards were hesitant to take a shot at him. They were forced to chase him down and Naruto was younger and faster than the fittest man in their arsenal.

He made it – of course he did. The bordering fence had already been breached; Naruto had sawed through a portion that was hidden by a bush, the opening just large enough for a young man his size to fit through. He crawled through first, then reached back to pull out his hostage. Sakura Haruno was looking worse for wear now, her clothes soiled by dirt and the blood that was making its way down the side of her face and onto the collar of her shirt. It was unlikely that the guards would be able to find someone small enough, other than a maid, who could follow through the hole. They would have to take the long way through the main or back gates. By then Naruto would be gone.

It was only a short sprint to the vehicle he had prepared. The car's engine started smoothly, quickly, quietly. He tossed his load onto the passenger's seat. Naruto floored the accelerator, leaving the alarms and sounds of starting vehicles behind. A wild shot ricocheted off the hood of his car, leaving a chipped streak on the black paint. Another shattered one of the back windows and burrowed into the leather seat – the guards, shooting desperately through the hole. Then there were no more, and Naruto Uzumaki was speeding into the darkness.

He drove steadily, efficiently. It would have been easier if his right hand wasn't smeared with blood. Blood. Sakura Haruno's blood. Naruto glanced at his hostage, the pale, concussed girl bundled on the seat beside him.

What was he supposed to do with the daughter of the man he had just killed?

* * *

This is a sort of prologue. I'm not very good at writing escapades, so excuse me if this chapter seemed a little artificial and unrealistic. In case it was vague in this chapter, yes, Naruto is an assassin - a pretty good one until he almost stuffed up. How and why he became one will eventually be uncovered in future chapters.


	2. Captive

**Chapter 2** **- Captive**

When she had been small, she liked to crawl into her father's bed and sleep with him. He would laugh heartily and tap her nose and cuddle her while they snuggled under the warm covers. He always made sure to inform her that she was a restless sleeper, always tossing and turning and tangling the blanket in a twisted cocoon around her body.

Sakura didn't think she was capable of that at the moment. She was sweating; her nightshirt was clinging to her back, likely drenched. It was so hot… maybe Hotaru had forgotten to turn on the air conditioning when she had finished cleaning her room. She wished someone would come and check on her, preferably her father. She didn't feel that good.

But the minutes dragged on so long that they felt like hours, and Sakura moaned. _Where is everyone? _They were usually all over the place, waking her when she felt like sleeping in, prompting her to remember this and that. Why weren't they coming when she needed them? She felt sick. It must be past nine o'clock; Father usually woke her if she wasn't up by then to kiss her goodbye and receive a disgruntled hug in return.

Something throbbed in the back of her head. Badly. Sakura winced and clutched at the blanket with her sweaty hands. The covers didn't feel right… they were too hard, too heavy. What had happened to the silk? She really couldn't care less. Her head _hurt_. She would need to get up and call for someone. Hotaru, maybe, since she liked being a mother hen so much.

It took effort to ease her eyelids open. The more she peeled them back, the harder and faster her head thumped. She persisted anyway, and the thumping intensified. Sakura usually didn't mind pain, but this was ridiculous! Was it April Fools already? Who had put sticky tape over her eyes? They would pay. With one last attempt, Sakura forced her eyes open.

She immediately cried out in pain. Whoever had stuck the tape on her eyes also seemed to have taken off the roof and upper levels of her father's estate. The sun was glaring in her eyes. Everything was white and agonisingly bright. The pounding in her head became so consistent that she couldn't even tell if it had become a single drone.

It _hurt_.

Sakura sat up, clutching her head, screaming when she could draw enough breath. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Her back arched. She hunched over, drawing her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Tightly. She beat her head against her knees, succeeding only in distracting her tormented mind from the internal searing with a physical sting in her forehead. She didn't care. She choked on her next breath and coughed roughly, the pressure squeezing her head so tightly it felt like it was going to burst. She clawed at her head, but there was something thick and soft wrapped around it.

She felt like vomiting.

Hotaru would not be pleased if she found a puddle of her young mistress' dessert on the sheets. Sakura knew she had to get up, somehow find her way to the bathroom, or at least magically get her hands on something safe to puke into. But she couldn't. Her head was bursting open at its imaginary seams. Who cared what Hotaru thought anyway? On that note, why wasn't anyone coming? Even Rokurou would have heard her pain by now and he only had one functional ear.

Sakura was lurching forward, ready to spew, when another thought made its way through her pained consciousness. Puking on her bed was bad. She doubted she would be getting out of it in a while, and sleeping with a wet stinky reminder of what she had eating didn't sound too enticing.

Groaning, Sakura struggled to get her eyes open again. It was easier this time. If the human mind could have pins and needles, Sakura's was setting off at a breakneck pace for the record book. She couldn't feel anything anymore – just the pain.

The world seemed to sway and swirl in and out of focus, like a paint palette that had its colours mixed together by some playful child. Sakura grabbed her head, pleaded for it to stay still. It didn't. She could practically taste the bile by now. She had to get out of bed. Now.

The bedside table wasn't where it was supposed to be, and Sakura's hand sank down on air where it had reached for something to lever herself up on. She tumbled out of the bed, dragging half the blankets out with her. Her head cracked painfully against the floor – who had peeled away the carpet? – and her vision exploded.

Sakura choked again, and the bile rose in her throat, pressing against the walls of her self-restraint.

Then a hand was against her back, helping her sit up. Sakura's vision had gone hazy by now. Who was it? Hotaru? No, her hand wasn't so big. Rokorou then… but he had hands the temperature of the refrigerator, and the one against her back was warm. Maybe… "Father…?" Sakura whispered, wishing she hadn't parted her lips to draw breath. She lurched forward and threw up.

Barely anything came out, but whatever had splashed and sloshed against something plastic. A bucket, maybe. Sakura didn't care. Vomiting helped relieve the pain. Whoever had come to her aid was being thankfully helpful; one hand stroked her back while the other held back her long hair and kept it away from her mouth.

Finally, when she felt a _little_ better, Sakura slumped into the strong arms and closed her eyes, letting them pick her up and lay her gently back in bed. The blanket was laid over her shuddering body and a hand rested lightly on her forehead. The person muttered something in a voice she could hear but could not discern words from. She tried to concentrate on the tone, her eyes still shut against the pain. _What is he saying?_

Something cold and heavy was laid on her head. Sakura groaned in relief. It numbed the pain. A little. Enough for her to think, to open her eyes and blink blearily at the face hovering over her.

Blond hair… who had blond hair? Yvonne had blond hair, but this was obviously a man. Sakura tried to focus, her gaze shifting down the face. Blond hair… eyes? Blue. A striking shade of the colour, glinting like chipped ice. She realised with a start that she recognised them. The intruder.

The murderer.

Murderer? Who had he murdered? She knew the answer was within her reach but she would not grasp it. She didn't want to know. Her father was not dead…

_(blood, on the carpet, on his shirt, dead, dead, his leg all red, lying there, dead, dead, dead)_

Sakura gasped and shut her eyes, hands flying to her head. The cold packet on her head was wet. She ripped it off, blindly tossed it away. "Stop, stop," she whispered frantically. "Stop it, stop it… Father…"

_(he's dead, saw him there, covered in blood, stabbed, shot, strangled, dead, dead, gone)_

"STOP IT!" Her head split. Even with her eyes closed, her vision was white. Then it was red. She screamed again. Hands grappled for her shoulders. Threw them off. Kept screaming.

Everything went black, and then she was falling.

* * *

The next time Sakura woke, her mind was clearer than it felt. There was no headache, no agonising torture. It was as it had become a distant dream, something unreal.

Dream…

"Father!"

Gasping, Sakura vaulted upright, eyes frantic, wild, _desperate_, as they darted around. The room was foreign, and so was the feeling that her father would never chuckle and pat her head and… exist.

"No… no…" she moaned. She wished her head was hurting. Anything… anything to distract her from the painful truth. Sinking her face into her hands, Sakura Haruno curled up and cried.

When she had been fourteen years old, her father had hired a counsellor to sit her through sessions for week. The death of a fellow businessman had prompted Kazuo Haruno to be concerned for his young daughter. That businessman was wealthy, but his life apparently was not worth very much. While on vacation with his family, he had forcefully been drowned in the local lake. His son, five years younger than Sakura, had discovered the body. The boy hadn't been the same since.

Sakura remembered finding the counselling sessions talking to the nice lady tedious. She was not going to go crazy. She was a strong-willed young woman. She would persevere.

Besides, it wasn't like someone would ever want to kill her father…

Wrong.

_Wrong._

The little boy… God, Sakura knew how he felt now. It was as if someone had grabbed her world at the seams and torn it apart. Her life had just… stopped and started revolving in opposite direction. Everything was _wrong._ Her father was dead; she had been taken away from her home…

This could not be happening.

Believing her father was not dead – he was probably just severely injured… right? – was harder than she had imagined it to be. It was a bad time to discover that she was a realist. Sakura saw the things the way they were, and being the intelligent girl she was, she rarely interpreted anything wrong. In the meagre seconds she had been granted, she had already gauged the amount of blood on the carpet, the paleness of the skin, the skill of his killer to have evaded the guards like that…

Sakura's head snapped up. The killer. The man with blond hair and eyes the colour of ice.

Her father's death was dulled by the realisation that she was being held captive by the same murderer. Realist as she was, Sakura knew that death was irreversible. That did not mean that she liked or accepted it. She _hated _death. She _hated_ that man for introducing her to it.

Sakura was stunned by how easily she was shunning her grief for darker emotions. She was not exactly getting over it but she had already accepted it. Too well. It just… it wasn't _normal._ Her only remaining family had just been killed, _murdered_… why wasn't she reacting like the little boy had?

Experimentally, she focused on her surroundings. A modestly sized room that was inevitably smaller than hers. Unsurprisingly, her eyes flashed to the closed door and lingered there for longer than necessary. No doubt it was bolted from outside. Next destination: window. Barred. Escape routes: closed off.

How could she even be _thinking_ through the losses she had suffered?

How could it be?

Was it because she was nineteen and old enough to be rational? Or was it because she had inherited her late mother's 'fiery personality', as often emphasised by her equally late father?

"_Sakura blossoms are strong; just like you, Princess…"_

The drying tears on her face stung her eyes. There was a second door in the room, to her left next to the cupboard. It was slightly ajar and a small sliver of bathroom peeked out at Sakura's blurred vision. She bit her lip for a moment, then threw back the blanket and stumbled toward it. Her footing was unsteady, her centre of gravity gone amiss. Her head spun a little, and for a horrified instant, Sakura thought the splitting, awfully painful agony was returning. But she was alright… just a little dizzy.

The water would fix it, she decided. The bathroom was average standards, with a small shower cubicle in the corner, a toilet and a sink by the door. Sakura was twisting the faucet and thrusting her hands under it before the paranoid thought of toxic gas replacing the natural flow of water even occurred to her. God knew how killers invested in plumbing.

Thankfully, the tap produced only a clear stream of liquid. Sakura leaned over and splashed her face – once, twice, three, several. A lot of times. If an onlooker didn't know better, they might think she was trying to drown herself. The water was cool on her face and cleansed the dried tear tracks. Too bad it didn't wash away the intangible emotions.

When she felt relatively calmer, she turned off the tap and rested her hands on either side of the sink, head hung down. She was gasping softly for breath. Small droplets trickled down her face, trapping the stray strands of pink locks. Slowly, she lifted her head to look at the wall mirror. The haunted eyes that stared back could have belonged to a stranger's.

With a shaky hand, Sakura swept the hair from her face. One finger hooked under the thin bandages that wrapped around her forehead. She frowned. Bandages? She felt her way around the band; she winced when her fingers pressed against a spot somewhere behind her left ear. It wasn't hard to remember after that.

Going to ask her father if he would like dessert. Knocking on the door. Waiting. Entering. A sharp impact to her head. Falling. Seeing her father. Seeing blood. Screaming. Face thrust into the stifling carpet. Fingers digging into her aching head. Something warm and wet trickling down her face… darkness.

Sakura pulled her lips into a grim slash and raised her hands to her head, finding the end of the dressing. With one swift, decisive motion, she peeled it away. The wet fabric twined down to the basin. Curiously, there was no blood.

She did not know what to make out of a person who had murdered her father, kidnapped her, and had the nerve to change her bandages. Not to mention get her into clothes that were too big and hung off her thin frame. Sakura refused to let the blood rush to her face.

As any captive would, she made for the door. Tugged futilely. Scowling, she went to the window and tested the strength of the bars. They were thin, but not of the sort that were used to cage people. They reminded Sakura of the windows in older towns. Of course, those could swing open. These, obviously, couldn't. Roof? Looked quite solid. Bathroom? Another barred window. No vents.

She was locked in.

This frustrated Sakura. Immensely. She went back to the door, stared at it for a while. Then she kicked it.

Imagine her surprise when it knocked back at her.

"I know you're awake, Sakura Haruno."

* * *

It wasn't until the sun began to set that Naruto Uzumaki moved for the first time in two hours. He was (_supposed_ to be) a professional assassin. He liked to… no, he _had_ to think he was. He had been taught, he had confidence; his job required him to be Silence. That did not mean that he was born a rock. No, those that knew Naruto Uzumaki outside his occupational activities – which was admittedly a very, very select few – would often complain that he never settled down. Naruto was naturally a very active person. He was bright, cheerful and friendly.

Some say those are the deadliest traits of his trade.

Quite a few things could make Naruto sit still. On the top of the list was killing someone. When he got home, he would sit somewhere, anywhere, and just brood. His mind was empty of the horrors that had struck him the first times now. He just sat there for a period of time, usually about an hour, and then got up to take a thorough shower and get back on track.

Sakura Haruno came to be a recent addition that was rapidly rising to second place of that list.

Naruto glanced over the counter at the widescreen television monitor in the lounge room. She was just waking up now, sitting desolately on her bed. With the quality of the small spy cameras that he had taken the liberty to install just yesterday, he could well make out the anguish. He really did not know what to do with her.

For the time being, he had taken care of her, treated her concussion and tended to her needs. He doubted she appreciated his hospitality. Naruto could not deny that some part of him had hoped that the concussion would kill her. That way, his decision would be made. He would not have to kill her in hot blood. A few thousand dollars would have her body properly disposed of and the threat she posed would be eradicated. It sounded like a good plan.

But no. When Sakura had first woken, Naruto had been in his room, positioned next to hers, the guest room. He sensed it immediately, the shift in the atmosphere. A few swift strides and he was outside the door, listening. And she screamed, screamed like she was in intense pain. Screamed like she was being burned at the stake. And Naruto, despite his better conscience, went in to help her. He couldn't do it. He could kill on order, but he could not torture an innocent like that.

He despised her innocence. If she had been guilty of some crime, other than witnessing his, Naruto would not have hesitated to take her life. But that couldn't be, could it? She had to be the victim. While he had been brooding, Naruto had gone over the options he had. He knew of a serum on the market that psychologically affected the mind to produce a rough mimic of memory loss. That was a gamble, of course. There was a high likelihood that Sakura Haruno would wind up as a vegetable. Yet another thing Naruto had to add to his 'Can't bring himself to do' list.

Handing her to the Agency was even crueller than slitting her throat. What could he do? Reduce her blind, dumb and deaf and then rid her? Send her to a foreign country? Hypnotise her?

Kill her.

The knife sliced down on the meat. Naruto's eyes were empty. He shook his head, his hands moving on their own.

Twenty minutes later, he was ascending the stairs. The cams had revealed her to be looking for an escape before he had flicked off the television. Naruto found himself smiling. A feisty one. So... alive. God, that made it that much harder.

He raised a fist to knock despite the irony, but before he could do so, the heavy wood shuddered under impact on the other side. He raised an eyebrow. He knocked anyway.

"I know you are awake, Sakura Haruno," he called. Waited. If he strained, he could hear her breathing. Fear? Anger? What do you feel if your father's killer was less than a metre from you, separated by a slab of wood?

Gently, he eased the bolt out of its resting place, mindful that the noise would send Sakura Haruno into an escape frenzy. He twisted the knob slowly, like some scene from a haunted house film. Poked his head inside. Peered around the door.

Ah, there she was. Standing by the bed, hands in tight (nervous?) fists. Naruto found her facial expressions amusing; there was a wide variety. He gave her a tight smile.

"Dinner's ready."

* * *

The first thing that struck her was his age. Sakura stared. The young man at the door could not older than her by more than two years. But it was him. She could tell. It was that look in his eyes, the serious yet light-hearted glint. His eyes were… enrapturing. They almost seemed to lure her in… had the same eyes lured her father to his death?

Sakura took a step back and shook her head roughly. This person was a killer. And he was inviting her to dinner.

"What are you trying to get at?" she hissed through clenched teeth. He stared at her – Sakura shivered at the way his eyes looked _straight_ into hers; it felt like they could see through anything.

"I thought you would be hungry." His voice was calm, collected, but not cold or unfriendly. "It's been three days."

"Since what?"

"Since you ate."

Her head snapped to the window. She had noticed that it was dark outside, yes – but _three days_? Her hand went to the back of her head. It made sense… getting clubbed like that was bound to leave her with concussion. But if that was the case, why had this _murderer_ taken care of her?

He saw her indecision. "You woke the first day. You remember that time, don't you?" Sakura refused to say anything. "You were out for two days after that. This is the night of the third." He paused, then asked, "Are you going to come with me or will I have to drag you down?"

She glanced over him, trying to discern hiding places for a gun or knife in his clothing. No one who had killed someone could be so calm, unless they were mentally unstable or witnessed bloodshed on a regular basis. No matter his age, this young man was the professional killer Sakura had decided he was. Smart people did not leave their witnesses alive. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I won't hurt you."

"I don't care."

"Stubborn, aren't you?"

"Murderous, aren't you?" she shot back. Something flashed in his eyes, and although she was on the verge of recoiling, Sakura heatedly went on. "You broke into my home, killed my father, practically smashed my skull into my brain and took me away. What more do you _want_?"

He regarded her for a moment. His gaze was emotionless. Then he stepped into the room. Sakura took an involuntary step back. Her heart started to race. Her nails were digging painfully into her palms.

He was reaching for her. His hand – the one that had held her hair back while she vomited, the one that had carried her back to bed. The one that had held the knife that had stabbed into Kazuo Haruno's chest.

Sakura lashed out blindly. With ease, he caught her wrist. Her other hand struck solid biceps. He didn't even flinch. But she did, when he walked out the door, dragging her behind him.

"Let go of me!" She was struggling to catch up with his long strides. Her limbs felt weak with lack of use. "Let go!"

They went down a set of stairs. Sakura tripped on one of the steps and almost fell down on her knees. Except the man – the _boy_ – stopped and let her bump into his back for support. He hadn't even turned around. She protested and tried to claw at his arms, wishing she had paid more attention in the self-defence classes her father had made her attend. Her endeavours weakened gradually as a dull thumping pounded in her head, directly where she had been struck. Sakura had no choice but to quiet down, or she would induce another concussion upon herself.

That was not to say that she didn't try to make it difficult for her captor. She braced herself on the floorboards, but he just kept dragging her along. There was a spacious lounge room with an adjacent kitchen that was separated by a counter. A table stood in one of the lounge room's corners. It was a small, square table. That alone suggested that he lived by himself and rarely had visitors.

He drew out a chair with one hand, and with the other lowered her into it. Sakura struggled until she felt his fingers brush against the base of her skull. "If I press down here, the force will cause your nerves to clutter and you will lose consciousness," he said matter-of-factly from behind her. "Considering that you are still injured near this spot, the pain has the capability to reduce you comatose. Don't make me do that to you."

Sakura swallowed tightly. He released her a moment later, and she twisted around to glare at him, grabbing his wrist before he could walk away. "What's stopping you from doing it here, now?"

He slipped out of her grasp with barely any effort at all. He did it while she was distracted by his eyes. And his response. "I don't know."

Again, Sakura had to shake her head. Dull pain throbbed as she did so, and she immediately stilled. She focused her attention on her surroundings. While the size could be considered impressive, there was something missing from the apartment. Everything was placed with a perfectionist's care and quietly whispered costly prices.

It took Sakura a while to notice that there were no photos on the stands or beside the large television. It was the lack of identity that stunned her. In her home, large as it was, her father always adorned the regular intervals with photographs that reminded them of happy days. Here, everything was plain and neutral. It gave her no indication of what sort of person her kidnapper could be.

But the door at the end on the other side of the room caught her attention.

Before Sakura could judge distances and her athletic capabilities, he spoke again. "I can kill you in nine different ways before you can reach halfway." She whipped around, and there he was, right behind her, with a plate in each hand. He moved without sound.

A plate was set down in front of her and cutlery next to it. Steak. Sakura's stomach flipped eagerly. The aroma teased her.

He sat down opposite her with his own meal. She narrowed her eyes at him, glared at him as he picked up his utensils and started to eat. "If you don't eat your body won't be able to make it," he said after a while.

"Why do you care?" she asked coldly.

"I don't know."

She pounded on the table. "Stop saying that!" Sakura shouted furiously. He paused and looked up. His eyes caught her. Again. "You… how…" She was faltering. "My father… why?"

He gazed into her eyes. Without looking away, he said, "I was paid."

Sakura's breath caught painfully in her chest. "By who?"

"I don't know."

"Stop-"

"And I don't care."

Her eyes widened. Unbelievable. Her father. Kazuo Haruno. Respectable businessman. A good man. Just taken from her like that.

And the bastard who had ripped him away couldn't even bring himself to care.

Sakura had no idea how the knife had found its way into her hand. She stared at it. Her knuckles were white. What was she supposed to do with this weapon? It was blunt, yes, but it could do some harm. She could hurt the person who had murdered the man she had loved so dearly. She could _do _something.

She could become like him.

The decision wasn't even made before his voice sliced through her thoughts, the blade of his words sharper than any knife Sakura would ever hold.

"You're holding it wrong."

She started. "What?"

"You're holding it wrong," he repeated calmly. He nodded at the knife clenched tightly in her fist. "If you hold it like that the hilt will slip and the force will lessen. If you are going to try and kill me, at least get it right."

"What do you mean 'try'?" Didn't he think she could kill him? His arm was just there. If she lunged… his wrist…

"Killing isn't as easy as you think it is," he said softly. She glanced up at him, and in that brief second, his eyes had captured her again. "Do you have what it takes to shove that knife into my heart? It's not sharp, but I'm sure that if you push hard enough… the blood will be all over your hands." Her hands? They were shaking, trembling. "If you're lucky, you might even hear my heart beating, slowing down. I might stare at you until I die." Those eyes, glazed, imprisoning her forever… "Do you have what it takes? Can you-"

"NO!" Sakura screamed. The knife was slipping from her fingers and she didn't care. She clapped her hands over her ears and shut her eyes and pushed her chair away from the table. The scrape of metal against wood was deafening. He was still talking; she could hear his muffled voice. "_Shut_ _up!_"

He was behind her again. She could feel his presence, his breath against her neck. His fingers were on that spot again. Yes, she wanted to die. She wanted him to compress that deadly spot.

"I lied," he whispered to her, and tapped the spot just as Sakura's eyes were snapping open. They lost focus, rebelliously shutting again. _Everything_ lost focus.

Once again, she was heavy in his arms. Naruto wondered with brief humour how much other males would give to be in his position. Sakura Haruno was by all means an attractive young woman with a pretty face and the slim legs all guys seemed to like these days.

Naruto found her personality a bit more impressive.

As he carried her up the stairs, he noticed that she had taken off the bandages. _What a rebel_. She had passed the stage where the bindings were still required, but Naruto decided that he would replace the discarded ones just to see how she reacted.

She had tried to kill him. No, that was hardly accurate. She had sat there with a butter knife and stared at it with horror. She didn't have it in her. She couldn't kill. Yet. Naruto could still remember a time when he had thought the same of himself. If Sakura Haruno had been put through training by the Agency, he would be dead by now.

But he was still alive. And so was she. What did he have to gain by letting her live? Nothing.

He laid her carefully in bed and settled the blanket around her shoulders. Her brow was furrowed while she slept. He chuckled. Interesting girl.

Naruto Uzumaki bolted the door and went down to finish dinner.


	3. Chances Are

**Chapter 3 – Chances Are…**

Sakura tugged furiously at the window bars. No good. Not even when she braced her feet against the walls and wrenched like some desperate cartoon character. With a frustrated grunt, she gave up and occupied herself by looking around the room for something sharp and hard.

Figuring out how to get rid of restraints that held her back from falling seven storeys probably wasn't the healthiest thing a girl could do in her free time – but Sakura was insistent. She would get out of here. She had to. If she could just get rid of the bars then she could… something. Her heart was sinking even as she searched through the drawers. No one had given her a crash course on jumping from short term goal to long term goal. Or how to make a seven storey landing.

It had been a few days (she'd lost count of how many) since that day of dinner with the murderer. When she had woken up the following day she had simply lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Not comatose or dead. Her hatred deepened impossibly.

Dinner was served in her room from then on. So was breakfast and lunch. There was no flap in the door where her meals were pushed in from, belying Sakura's pessimistic thoughts. No, her host unbolted the door each time and set the plates on the desk in the corner of her room. After the first couple of tries, Sakura didn't even bother trying to charge him anymore. He was fast and he was strong. He never deliberately hurt her, though. His grip was firm but not quite punishing, and pushing her away or onto the bed seemed to be preferable to smacking her to the floor.

_Well what do you know?_ Sakura thought bitterly. _We have a teddy bear for a killer._

He came to collect the plates almost immediately after she was finished. It was like he was watching her every move. She didn't even have the opportunity to start sawing at the window bars with the butter knife. It was probably the same knife she had threatened him with – the same one that might have turned her into a murderer like him.

The meals were not stone cold or lacking at all. This infuriated Sakura even more. Some days she ate, some days she didn't.

Sakura had trouble summing up the nameless man (boy, she reminded herself) who had taken her away from her home. She was alive. That certainly counted for something. She was taken care of. A room, bed, even her own bathroom. It was almost like staying at a hotel. A hotel that kept their guests behind locked doors. If she was hungry between meal intervals, banging on the door and yelling generally sent up a snack. There was barely anything she could hold against him.

Not that it mattered. He had killed her father. Sakura Haruno would hate a man she didn't even know the name of to the roots of his existence. She would… and there she faltered. This was where she always faltered. What _would_ she do with him? Escape from and loathe. She couldn't say it, could barely _think_ it.

Kill.

The knock on her door made Sakura jump. Her green eyes darted to the wall clock. Eight o'clock. Dinner was usually served around this time. She backed away from the door.

The familiar sounds of unbolting reached her ears, and then the door eased open. A blond head poked in. For a second, Sakura thought she saw his eyes flicker to the windows and she stiffened. But then he was smiling, as he had been doing so often lately, as if smiling to his victims' daughters was something he did every day.

"Hi," he said. There was nothing in his hands. Sakura tensed; what had he decided now? Her heart rate began to steadily rise. Was he going to kill her now?

"I was wondering if you had calmed down enough to join me for dinner downstairs."

That… was it? After all this, _everything_ because it felt like eternity since she had been held captive, he was just… it just wasn't right. She tried to pull reign on her emotions. They were suddenly spiralling into turmoil. She barely knew what had triggered this. Days of feeling like a trapped rat, maybe.

Something inside Sakura snapped.

She kept stepping back until she had pressed herself against the wall. Her eyes were wide. "Why do you… stop it… just _stop it!"_

He was calm, and cocked his head to the side. "Stop what?"

"This! Quit acting like you're a good guy! What is this? Pity? I don't need it!" She was screaming now. He seemed unaffected. "What the hell do you want? Kill me already – kill me like you killed my father!" Why was she crying? She didn't know.

For a while he was silent. Then, "So… no dinner?"

"_I hate you!" _It was cue for her to throw things at him. But she didn't. There was nothing she could reach; everything seemed so far away. Home was off in the unseeable distance yet reality was frighteningly close. "You bastard! I'll never forgi – _let go of me!_"

"First of all," he said, pinning her against the wall, his eyes piercing hers, "my name is Naruto Uzumaki, not 'bastard'. Secondly, I think you're being unbelievably selfish."

"_What?"_ She tried to lash out at him.

"I thought you would be grateful that you are still alive. What is this? Your father is dead, he's gone – and I _know_ I killed him. What are you going to do now? Die as well? You're just going to throw away yourself. You won't think about how much your father might have loved you and how little his life would mean if _you _don't even want to live?"

"Bullshit!" she yelled at him. "What do you know?" But something inside her, the something that had snapped, was crumbling. The tears were coming down faster, choking her breaths. "You don't know _anything_. Father… Father loved me… he… you don't know. You _don't_…" God, what had she done? Her father had _loved_ her. What was she doing? Hating someone to the core – did it really mean more to her than he had? Than he _did_?

She was breaking.

"And thirdly," Naruto Uzumaki's voice said from above her (when she had sunk to the floor?), "are you coming down for dinner? Yes or no?"

"No. No, no, no, no…" She wasn't sure if she was answering him or lashing out at reality. Sakura knew she was being unstable. She heard the door close, and suddenly there was nothing she could hold back anymore.

Screaming was beyond her. She couldn't control the wracking sobs. Just buried her face against her knees and let herself cry. What had she been thinking these past days? That her father had been killed and that she needed to either escape this prison or join him? No. She was wrong. She was so horribly wrong. Her father hadn't just been killed – he was dead. He was gone. He wasn't coming back.

It was one of those split second realisations. The ones that came out of nowhere and slammed into you full force and harder than any truck. The ones that hurt the most and tore at your sanity.

Sakura still remembered him. She remembered him so clearly it was deceiving. She remembered on her fifteenth birthday he had taken her out for KFC and it had been the best birthday ever. She remembered how the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She remembered they used to argue about the stock market. She remembered that his arms were strong and warm when they hugged her. She remembered when he was alive.

She missed him.

The door opened again and Naruto Uzumaki stepped in. Sakura slowly raised her head and watched, rather lifelessly, as he placed a cup of instant ramen on the desk. He wasn't quite looking at her as he said, "When you're given a chance, just take it. It's all over if you let it run past you. Don't be an idiot." Then he was gone and she could hear his footsteps fading.

He left her at a loss. _What kind of killer leaves his captives alive and encourages them to live?_ It was inane.

The ramen was waiting for her, steam slowly coiling in mesmerising wisps. Sakura got to her feet. She swayed a little before she righted herself. A single realisation thudded in her chest and made her walk to the desk – she didn't want to die.

Naruto Uzumaki was right. There was no point to giving up and waiting for death. She needed to live.

Sakura Haruno was going to stay alive, and when the time came, she would escape.

* * *

Naruto did not quite want to admit that he was enjoying himself a bit more than he should. In general terms it had been idiotic of him to leave a witness alive. In Agency regulation terms, it was basically forbidden and often placed in comparison to holding a knife to your own neck. Holding a person captive imposed a definite risk.

He faintly realised this all in the back of his mind, yet did nothing about. If anything, he was downright ignoring the rules. He sometimes had the tendency to do that.

Meals were eaten in the lounge room again. It was rather amusing; Sakura only started to eat after Naruto had taken the first bite. Most of the time she glared at him throughout the entire meal and made it no secret that she still distrusted him. Behind those eyes, she was planning and calculating. Naruto knew she was carefully noting the apartment's layout each time he allowed her out of her room.

A captive Sakura Haruno was an assassin's worst nightmare.

But still, Naruto mused, the companionship was rather… nice. It had been a while since someone other than himself had occupied this apartment. It was strangely soothing to sit in his room and know that he was not alone.

"Can I go back to my room now?" Sakura huffed from over the counter where Naruto had made her sit on the couch. She was a little uneasy. Usually he would take her down for meals and then escort her back to her room – he'd never told (or rather, instructed) her to wait for him while he washed the dishes. He was terribly slow at the chore and Sakura found herself easing to the edge of her seat, brow furrowed.

"Nothing's going to happen. Sit back and enjoy the music, Sakura," he called back to her. He grinned as she went rigid and gave him a venomous look. She seemed not to care how he knew her name; she just hated hearing it from him. It irritated her. Naruto made sure he said it on a regular basis. He was getting better at saying it casually.

It did little to soothe her nerves. Her host had a home theatre surround sound system – looking around, Sakura noted that most of the furnishings were modest and of good quality. It made her eyes narrow in astringent distaste. _I guess you make a lot of money killing people, huh?_

At least he had good music tastes.

Naruto went over to the television and turned on one of the several gaming consoles he had attached to the stream. Then he reached into a drawer and took out a remote, plugging in the wire to the platform and uncoiling it as he walked over to sit on the couch. Sakura shuffled away from him, frowning. The television's screen flickered to life and began to load the console.

"So," Naruto said conversationally. He set down the control on the glass table in front of the couch and reached a hand toward Sakura. "Let's see how that concussion of yours is, huh?"

She slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" Angry tones. Sakura found her way to the adjacent armchair, completely isolating herself. She wore a hard glare on her features.

He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm not going to rape you or anything."

"Oh I'm sure you wouldn't." She did not sound convinced.

"Look, I know you hate me – you have a really good reason to, yeah. But since we're living togeth-"

"We are _not_ living together!" she snapped.

"Okay, okay; we're not living together," he relented in a gentle tone. His giving way seemed to give her a small satisfaction. "But let me tell you the truth; you won't be getting out of here anytime soon. We'll be stuck with each other for a while; don't you think it would be much easier for the both of us if you just calmed down a little and tried to get along? I'd prefer not to have to resort to force."

Sakura snorted. "Bastard," he heard her mutter.

"Naruto," he reminded. She glanced at him but otherwise said nothing. "It's bad luck that we had to meet under these conditions – I'm pretty sure we could be friends."

"That's ridiculous."

"No really, I'm quite likeable in real life, you know that?"

"I can see you're trying very hard," Sakura replied scathingly. In all honesty, she had noticed that Naruto Uzumaki's demeanour was less frigid, short of the professionalism she had been witness to a few days ago. He acted more like the teenager he should be… more like a human.

A wordless lapse blanketed them. Only the sounds of the game broke the silence. Sakura watched for a while. Uzumaki was playing a racing game. Mario, in fact. It made her want to laugh. How very childish. "What, no blood and gore?" she asked.

"You're not even trying, are you?" After being met with silence, he shrugged and held out the controller to her. "You want to play?"

"No."

"Fine. Suit yourself."

Sakura pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Just what are you trying to get out of this?" she demanded.

"I told you – nothing. I just thought you'd – whoa!" He jerked his arm as Yoshi's cart went skidding across the asphalt. He righted himself again. "Sorry. I just thought you were getting sick of being cooped up in that room."

Another moment of silence. In the midst of racing the championship Naruto watched Sakura discreetly from the corner of his eye. "Don't bother looking for a phone," he informed her when she failed Stealth 101. "It's all about the new age – mobile is the only way you'll be calling your boyfriend."

Sakura frowned. It was almost like Naruto Uzumaki was a different person. What was this? Was he lowering his guard? While it did unsettle her, Sakura realised that she could get something out of this. It wasn't like she had anything to lose. "You kill for a living, don't you?" she asked him. She tried to keep her tone even.

"Hitman, contract killer, hired gun, assassin – whichever floats your boat."

"Why do you do this?"

"I can't tell you that. I don't know myself."

It was… eerie, somehow, to be discussing something so dark over the game's cheerful soundtrack. Uzumaki was not a bad player. It made Sakura doubt herself. It made her doubt everything. Naruto Uzumaki was a _boy_. He couldn't have hit adulthood by more than a couple years. He was a kid and he was a murderer.

"Why would someone want to kill my father?"

Naruto glanced at her. He wondered if she was truly conscious of what she was saying. Her voice had come out as a broken whisper; she was afraid. Afraid that Kazuo Haruno was not the man she had looked up to. Afraid that he had brought death upon himself. "I don't know. Political reasons, financial feuds…" He turned back to the screen. "It's a tough world. Not in defense for myself or anything, but if the person who gave the order for your father to be killed was bent on it, it wouldn't matter if _I_ killed him or not; sooner or later someone would come along."

She looked hard at him. "I wouldn't know, would I? The truth is right in front of us. My father is dead and you killed him."

"True," he relented. "But then, if you think about it… if I hadn't taken the job and let it pass on to another agent, you probably wouldn't even be alive. Most of the others kill on sight. Be grateful, Sakura."

She scowled. It was a sore point. Then she comprehended the meaning behind Uzumaki's words. "'Another agent'?" she repeated.

"You're a sharp one, aren't you?" he said, amused. There was a pause as he got up to put away the controller. "I'm afraid I can't say any more. All I can tell you is; more people fancy killing as a profession than you could imagine. Now come on, bedtime." Even though it was only nine o'clock and Naruto knew Sakura stayed up to late hours.

She rose and proceeded up the staircase without a word. Naruto followed behind her; he was taking no chances. He paused at the door before he left. "You should think about what I said tonight. It won't do you much good if you continue this way. You don't want to get on the wrong side of me, trust me."

Sakura eyed him. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, but she was certain that he would take necessary action if he needed or wanted to. Killing was in his nature. Her death would mean nothing to him. She was at odds as to what her life meant to him now – she decided she didn't want to know.

"I still hate you."

Uzumaki smiled at her. "Suit yourself. I imagine it's rather boring sitting in here all day; I'll bring you some books sometime."

"Whatever."

Books weren't the only things Naruto Uzumaki indulged on her. Sakura enjoyed reading as a hobby, had since she was a child. But until now, she had never quite understood the significance of having her own clothes to wear. She had been wearing Uzumaki's clothes since she had woken up in captivity, and she was desperate to rid herself of his scent.

He bought her shirts, jeans, jackets, pyjamas… lingerie. Sakura's face traitorously went red. Uzumaki had claimed that the boxers he had given her were clean but it still made her uncomfortable and awkward to be reminded every time she undressed that she was wearing a stranger's underwear. The new clothes were surprisingly snug to her body and fit her very well.

"I wasn't the one who picked them out," he said when she asked him, with suspicions of the fitting lingerie tainting the purity of the question.

"Then who did?"

"A friend of mine – it doesn't matter. They look good on you."

She really didn't need to be complimented by someone like Naruto Uzumaki.

There were times when his recently surfaced flamboyant personality would falter and be replaced with a stark seriousness. She learned to leave him to his brooding. She supposed that, to a killer, cheeriness was only a weak defense. Naruto Uzumaki seemed to have more conscience than she had expected.

On the other hand, Uzumaki was vibrant most of the time, and as the days progressed he became increasingly carefree. Despite Sakura's insistence to keep her distance, his enthusiasm made it difficult for her to continue sniping stubbornly at him. Uzumaki had an austere contrast of personalities; the proficient assassin and the goofy teenage boy. It wasn't anything closely related to a split personality, but Sakura was still constantly unnerved by how quickly and efficiently he could slip into the different skins with barely any effort or warning at all.

Time passed uneventfully for Sakura. The thing about boredom was that it dulled everything – despising Naruto Uzumaki, escaping captivity, grieving for her father; everything was felt on a smaller scale. When she wasn't reading or watching childish DVDs that Uzumaki chose, Sakura even found herself conjuring ludicrous scenarios. Turning Uzumaki into a frog had somehow made the list. It was ridiculous and she knew it.

Sakura had not seen this coming. She had envisaged that she would turn hell on Naruto Uzumaki. She had pictured rebelling against his every move and eventually breaking free from his clutches. She had seen herself doing _something_. But Uzumaki's preparations were impeccable. There was no way to escape from her prison unless he willed it.

She told herself that there were always flaws. Always. She just had to be patient and bide her time. A chance would come, and when it did she would take Uzumaki's advice and reach for it without hesitation.

But when a chance did come, it was only because Naruto Uzumaki wanted her to help him kill someone.

* * *

A/N: I'm personally not very happy with this chapter. It generally takes me a few chapters to actually into writing a story and it was hard for me to shift from writing the original Narutoverse to a complete AU. Not happy :(

Naruto had quite a personality change, didn't he? I still think it's rather sudden but I seriously could not continue writing if he remained like a rock. I would've had better luck handing the role over to Sasuke. I didn't want to make Naruto too OOC - I suppose you could pin down his sudden return to cheerfulness against his adjustment to Sakura; not so nervous now that he's realised she's not much of a threat. I hope I didn't rush Sakura's reactions too quickly, especially near the end of the chapter.

Ah well, I suppose that's what experiments are for; discovering what works and what doesn't. And lastly, apologies for the semi-cliffy. I had to move the story along before it became extremely boring.


	4. Invitation

**Chapter 4 - Invitation**

Naruto was oh so amused. He was a little fascinated by Sakura Haruno's reactions to varying situations, and the expression she wore at the moment was priceless, satisfying. He raised the dress on its hanger, draping it over one arm. Its silken texture shimmered in the light.

"Don't you like it? I think it's pretty nice."

'Pretty nice' barely did it justice. It was a very fine gown, a pale silvery shade with sequins spiralling from the hip. Naruto had enjoyed picking it out. He could tell that Sakura also found it alluring. No doubt she had worn much more immaculate garments, but judging from his study of Sakura Haruno, Naruto doubted she opted to wear ball gowns on a regular basis. She didn't seem like the kind of girl who would drown if you placed a mirror at the bottom of the swimming pool. That was why she interested him so much.

His voice seemed to do the trick. Sakura looked sharply toward him. "What's the meaning of this?" she demanded. The corner of Naruto's lips tipped upward; the girl was just as suspicious-natured as he was. He approved.

"What do you think about coming to a party with me?" he asked casually.

An eyebrow arched up as green eyes eyed the dress. "Party?" She was barely humouring him.

"A ball."

"No thanks."

Naruto grinned, revealing his teeth. "It's not like I'm giving you a choice."

As expected, Sakura did not take well to being ordered around. So predictable. "Then what's the point of asking?" She was annoyed but there was curiosity on her features.

"It's polite," he answered.

"Oh yeah, and murder and kidnap is just chivalry wearing a mask. You're such a gentleman, Uzumaki," she sneered sarcastically. "Spit it out – what do you want?"

He fingered the lace strap and nonchalantly inspected the dress. It was a fine choice, if he said so himself. "I thought you might appreciate some fresh air…"

"Well, I don't," she snapped.

"And it just so happens that it is a convenient stop to work." He waited for the words and their meaning to sink in. It didn't take very long. 'Work', in occupational context, was a relative term and Sakura was well aware of it.

"Oh, no." Despite her realisation, her words were slow and she was giving him an incredulous look. The absence of animosity and rage was interesting. For lack of better word, Naruto would say that she was flabbergasted.

"Oh, yes," he smiled. "Hey, come on, you can't say no. I even got you a nice dress. The shoes are downstairs; should I go get them?"

"Go to hell, Uzumaki. Burn. Die," Sakura spat at him. She was on her feet now.

"I haven't even said anything yet," he pointed out. Furious, Sakura opened her mouth, but Naruto went on without prompt. "You won't have to do anything. You won't even see it. We'll probably have a couple of dances, eat some fancy food. You never know, you might enjoy yourself."

The venom in her eyes told him her opinion. "I am not going to help you kill someone. Not even if the world spontaneously combusted." She was trembling, breathing hard. "You don't even need me," she ground out.

True. Naruto had already thought about that. Again, he wondered if he was making yet another idiotic mistake. He had been making a lot of them lately. "You're right, actually," he agreed. "You won't be the one getting the job done. I could actually do a sneaky break and enter. I'm quite good at those."

"Then you do that." It was remarkable how, taking into account her active disagreement with killing others, Sakura was betraying her morals simply to refrain from getting herself involved. The human mind was astounding.

"But I don't want to." Naruto briefly thought back to Kazuo Haruno. The robbery scheme had resulted in this. Had he been allowed to play it fair, slowly reel in the prey, then disappear without a trace like he always did, it would have simplified things. In other words, he would never have come to know Sakura or resolve to hold her captive. Now that he had free rein over his method of assassination, Naruto didn't think he needed another Sakura.

But Sakura was not going to understand that. "I'm not going to help you kill another person and ruin more people's lives, bastard!"

He was being cruel and he knew it. Those that didn't see that the world was a harsh place would fall hard. He had.

He seized her wrist. She flailed but he held her fast. "Look into my eyes," he said calmly. She did. "Does it look like I care about what you think?"

She didn't avert her gaze. She wasn't going to give him satisfaction. "You are the biggest asshole I've ever met. You got that?"

Naruto released her with a laugh. "Trust me, I know."

Sakura's resilience made her particularly difficult to manipulate. Her will was like iron. Had she been more submissive, Naruto might not have made this decision. Perhaps he shouldn't have strengthened her resolve by urging her to live. But Sakura as she was now was much too interesting. He didn't get to interact with many girls his age to this point; everything she did, the way she thought, was intriguing. Because of his curiosity he was digging himself so many holes. He had to be careful. Believe it or not, Sakura Haruno was dangerous.

He went over to the wardrobe and hung the dress on the rack. "The ball is on Friday night. Get ready by seven, alright? Make yourself look good." Two days for her to come to terms with moralities and to realise that it was Naruto who held all the cards.

Her eyes were narrowed. "Aren't you afraid I'll run away from you?" Sakura scorned. She was trying to keep up the tough façade.

"You won't have a chance to." His smile held no space for doubt. Just like his promise to kill her on the spot, he would make sure she remained a bird in the cage of his hand.

"This won't work, you know. People will recognise me."

"Don't talk big, Sakura," Naruto chided. She frowned. "I've done my homework. Sakura Haruno: home-schooled, low-key, attended close to none of her father's social event calls." He recited this without looking away from her eyes. "Hardly anyone will recognise you. And besides, the theme is masks." His grin widened. "Am I a genius or what?"

His plan was flawless. Sakura could see that. She changed the tone of the conversation, winding it further from home. "How many people have you killed?"

It was such a straight-forward question but it still took Naruto aback. His smile did not waver. "I wouldn't know. It's not like I keep count."

But the thing was, he _did_ keep count. He knew exactly how many lives he had taken. He would go as far as to remember each individual kill. He knew he could remember his first.

* * *

Her refusal to speak to him was bought up the night before the ball. Naruto Uzumaki laid down his utensils beside his plate and looked at Sakura. She was eating quietly, though her fish fillet did look slightly mutilated. "I hope you haven't been playing with that," he said. "I don't cook a lot so you should be glad I made that for you."

To spite him, Sakura stabbed her fork into the fillet. "You've been cooking every single day."

"Oh hey, it speaks." She obviously did not find that amusing. Naruto rubbed his chin. "Are you mad at me?"

That was the stupidest question she had ever heard. Sakura mutely cut up her fish into small pieces.

After a while, he picked up his knife and fork and started to eat again. She could tell he was still regarding her. "I usually don't cook," he told her. "Most of the time I eat out or just make instant ramen. I don't have a lot of time to spend making stuff like this, and even then I'm not always in the mood to eat."

Sakura felt that this was the deepest Uzumaki had revealed of himself. She had gotten a glimpse of his way of life. But that did not make her any ounce more sympathetic or forgiving. If anything, it infuriated her to no end.

"Too busy killing people to eat, huh?" she shot at him.

"You really hate me, don't you?"

Her fork clattered loudly against the china as Sakura discarded it. Uzumaki's eyes flickered.

"Or do you hate what I do?"

Sakura's hand slammed down on the table. The pepper threatened to roll off the table but Naruto nudged it back to the centre. She glared into his eyes. "Why don't you just kill me if I cause you so much trouble?" she hissed furiously.

He regarded her. "You really don't want to go tomorrow, do you?"

"I won't help you kill. I know what it's like to have your world flipped upside down – if I can't stop you from hurting those people, the least I can do is make your life hell." She wasn't going to help him produce more subjects like her. Sakura's eyes dulled as she remembered her father. How many people did he have to kill? How many more families had to be shattered? Who could have the heart to do this?

"I won't go to the ball. I can't."

His smile tightened. "I already told you that you had no choice, didn't I?"

She stared him down. Sakura shivered as his cool eyes drilled into hers. There was no emotion in them. Where was the young man – the _human_ – she had seen in him? Was this an assassin's greatest strength? The ability to force down their feelings and ethics at will?

Looking at Naruto Uzumaki now, Sakura's fingers itched to slap him.

"Will you kill me if I refuse?" she challenged. She rose to her feet, palms flat on the table, and looked down at him. If Uzumaki thought she would be cowed, he was dead wrong. Sakura had resolved that she would, at all costs, live and cling to life. But at the end of the day, she really had nothing to lose.

Slowly, Naruto got to his feet as well. His smile was eerie. "I might," he relented.

"What's stopping you?"

His arm blurred, and Sakura felt the chill of the blade against the side of her neck, poised over her jugular. "Do you have to make me threaten you every time?" Uzumaki murmured. "Why are you so keen on dying? I thought we had already settled this."

"Tell me again why I need to go tomorrow."

"You're part of my disguise. It will make me less suspicious if I had a lovely girl hanging off my arm. It would save me a lot of charm and effort." It was a lie and he knew it. He could complete the task with or without her.

"That's it?" she pressed.

The corner of his lips twitched and the steel blade danced along her skin. "I want to see how well you can dance."

For a long, tense moment, the two of them simply stared at each other over the table. Then, leisurely, Sakura pushed Naruto's hand away. He let her. "I _will_ live on," she told him without looking away. "I'm just showing you that I'm not afraid of you. From now on, I _will_ make your life hell." _And believe it or not, I _will _escape from you._ The ball was as good a chance as any. Sakura had a long night ahead of her, and she pushed back her chair, turning to the staircase. "I'm going back to my room," she declared.

Naruto raised an eyebrow. "You really weren't kidding, were you? You're not at all afraid of me?"

"What, does that bother you?"

He chuckled and stepped away from the table to follow her. There was still tension in the atmosphere, and Sakura could feel it pressing down on her shoulders. Uzumaki saw her to her room, but this time she was not going to let him have the last word. She held back the door as he was closing it.

"By the way, you were holding the knife wrong back there."

She slammed the door shut in his face. Then she slid to the floor, hugged her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Her nails bit crescent indents into her palm. It made screaming a little harder.

* * *

Although he had told her to be ready by seven, Naruto knew without having to check that Sakura had not changed into her dress. It was just the kind of character she was. She had been growing bold lately, disregarding him as the authority. She was bargaining too much on the assumption that he would not kill her. He wondered how she could be so certain. He hadn't even convinced himself.

He knocked gently against the door. "My lovely lady, are you ready?"

"My dear prince, do you mind getting lost?" came the response.

Naruto smirked. "I'm coming in," he announced.

He was right; she was still in her regular clothes. But it seemed she had been about to change. The gown was spread on the bed. That surprised him. Naruto had thought that she would require much more pressuring.

"Nice tie," Sakura commented dryly. He was wearing the customary suit, a black one. It was a little ruffled; he hadn't pressed it. His tie was a magnificent orange.

"Isn't it great?" he agreed, adjusting it in the wardrobe mirror. "You should get changed too. We'd make a great couple."

Sakura picked up the dress and headed toward the bathroom without argument. Naruto raised an eyebrow but she had already closed the door. _That was rather easy._ He had high suspicions that she would take the outing to her advantage and escape. Like he was going to let that happen.

The bathroom door remained closed for ten minutes. Sakura was taking longer than necessary. He chuckled, wondering if it was intentional. A rebel to the end. But she was wrong – she wasn't making his life hell. She was making it more interesting.

When she came out, Naruto knew that he had made the right choice. The dress loosely hugged Sakura's figure, and the colour tone did not clash with her hair, which she had left out. It was a relatively ordinary dress, just tailored very well, but it was exactly the sort of thing that made Sakura Haruno look like the sharp-minded yet elegant girl that she was.

Humouring her, Naruto whistled. "It looks good on you, Sakura."

She studied herself in the mirror for a long while. She fingered the fabric, her eyes dull with deep thought. "I'm going to regret this," she murmured, though Naruto was not certain if she had intended him to hear. He speculated; what had she been thinking about these past couple of days? Surveillance cameras could only tell him so much.

They went downstairs. Naruto showed her the heels he had gotten for her. She slipped into them without a word. With the additional height, she was almost as tall as he was. Almost.

"Here," he said, handing her a feathery mask of pale blue. "I suppose it doesn't look too bad against your hair."

Sakura weighed the mask in her hand. She didn't want to put it on. Not only was she immorally accompanying a killer to his next target, she was going to hide her identity. Needless to say, tonight was as good any chance to escape from Naruto Uzumaki. He definitely would have to leave her alone to make the kill; he had already told her that she would not see 'it'. It would be the perfect opportunity to tear off her mask. Undoubtedly, there would be people who would help her.

But that was much too easy. She daren't get her hopes up. Uzumaki must have something up his sleeve. Sakura kept quiet.

Naruto noticed that Sakura was uptight as he unlocked the front door. It would be her first time leaving the apartment since her capture. Was she elated or anxious? He found himself watching her carefully. Were all teenage girls like this? He wouldn't know. He had never spent enough time around them.

Despite his apartment's modest furnishings and space, the block in which it was contained did not speak the same volumes. It was a little rundown and old. Naruto preferred it like this. No one looked twice at inconspicuous things.

Sakura watched as he pressed the button for the lift. "You live on the highest floor," she observed.

"_We_ live on the highest floor," he corrected, knowing it would spite her. True to his prediction, Sakura's face darkened. If she wasn't so tense, he had no doubt that she would try to hit him. She was at a vital snapping point right now.

The silver doors slid open with a slight rattling sound. Naruto gestured. Silently, Sakura stepped inside. "Ground floor, please." He nodded at the panel.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I'm only taking advantage of the fact that you aren't screaming and clinging to the door and wishing I had never been born."

She looked at him. "Do you want me to?"

He matched her serious tone. "What are you thinking?"

The lift opened but neither of them made a move to get out. Just as the door was closing again, Sakura reached out and placed her hand against them, keeping them open. "That I hate you, what you're doing, and myself," she answered after a while.

Naruto watched her step out. "You know, you can make a break for it now if you wanted to," he told her.

"I know."

"If you yell, people might hear you."

"I know."

"If you did either, I would kill you."

"I know."

* * *

Uzumaki drove a sleek black car. He told her it had to be repainted and repaired since that night of her father's death. He had been saying things like that recently. For some reason, he was saying more to her, somehow integrating her into his life. It was the last thing she wanted. She didn't want to bond with him. She wanted to get as far away from him as she could.

Sakura wanted to go home.

She missed Hotaru's mothering, and Rokurou's kindness. She just wanted to be back home. She had set her sights on the goal, not because she was homesick, but rather because fighting for escape was much more realistic than pining for her father to be alive again.

The radio was on and Uzumaki was humming. Sakura thought back to their conversation in the lift. He was right. Why wasn't she resisting? She was frightened of herself. Once she had set her resolve on escape, she had been able to tune out everything else: her torn conscience, the glaring line between right and wrong. How could she do that? It was scary.

It was almost like Naruto Uzumaki.

Sakura shuddered, and it wasn't because of the crisp evening air streaming in from the open window. _I'm not like him_._ I'm not a killer._ But she was already feeling like one. Escaping had seemed so far away before that she had barely thought about it. And yet, now that she was actually out of the apartment, the desire to be free tugged recklessly at Sakura's notions. She wanted to get away, wanted to leave everything behind. Even if it came at the cost of another's life.

It was very selfish of her, very self-centred. Very _childish._ As long as she got what she wanted, it didn't matter what the consequences were. But she couldn't stop thinking that way. As much as she wanted to stop Uzumaki from killing another person, she wouldn't be able to do anything. She continuously told herself that she would alert someone of his intentions at the ball, as soon as he left her alone, but she kept getting the feeling that it would not be that easy. He wouldn't let her ruin him like that.

It was all wrong. This was not how her father had taught her to be. But he had also told her not to hate, hadn't he? Sakura could not contain herself. Naruto Uzumaki had driven her to this edge. He was to blame. In fact, it was easier to hate him when he was like this. Being a bastard. She didn't know how far she could go if she were to face down that exuberant boy playing Mario.

The car stopped, and Sakura raised her head. It was dark but the building was rimmed with light. It wasn't a mansion – it was hardly bigger than her house. However, it was large, and the courtyard was crowded with cars. She spotted dark-suited guards at the entrance and patrolling the perimeter. The estate looked a little familiar. Sakura's brow furrowed as she had a strong sense of déjà vu. It probably wasn't very surprising – Kazuo Haruno had taken his young daughter many places in the past.

They had arrived.

* * *

Naruto leaned over and looked at the venue. He had seen photos and been through the blueprints but seeing something first hand was still different. "Pretty place, huh?" He sometimes returned the places of his kills to contemplate. It wasn't anything spiritual, or out of remorse. He didn't feel anything when he killed. Neutrality was his mask.

When it became apparent that Sakura didn't feel like talking, he went on. "I've got a present for you," he said. At her arched eyebrows, he took out a small ornate brooch. "Let me put it on for you."

She eyed it, though her gaze seemed a little distracted. "Do I have to wear it?" she said at last.

"I'd be hurt if you didn't," he answered.

As he leaned over and was carefully pinning it to her gown, Sakura said, "Are you sure this isn't just some ploy to get close to me?" She must have noticed that his face was dishonestly close to her chest.

"Nope. It's to make sure you won't escape from me."

"A piece of jewellery won't capture my heart, Uzumaki."

He smiled at her. "What makes you think I didn't mean it literally?" At her bemusement, he said, "I mean it. You're not escaping from me."

Her eyes sharpened and grew wide with horrible realisation. She had just willingly _allowed _him to chain her. "What did you do?" she demanded, grasping the brooch. She seemed prepared to rip it out.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Naruto advised cheerfully. "Not only will that ruin the dress, it will explode and kill you if you take it off. Or try to, for that matter," he added helpfully.

"You…" For a second, Naruto was worried. She seemed… crushed. He knew then that she had indeed been harbouring intentions to escape. If allowing her to leave would not endanger him – and her, for that matter – he would have released her from the beginning.

But that was the point. He couldn't. In fact, he didn't know why he was taking her to the ball with him. Leaving her behind would have maintained the bare friendly terms they had been bordering on. And yet Naruto had decided, and he always stuck to his decisions. Sakura Haruno intrigued him so much. He felt the need to involve her in something, unwilling to let her waste away. Even if it meant being cruel, even if it meant he was being unbearably selfish.

Oh yes, he knew he was a horrible person.

"There is a device hidden in there," he said, nodding at the brooch. "When the pin locks in, it automatically activates a sensor. A five centimetre radius extends and detects a heartbeat. If your heartbeat stops for longer than 20 seconds, it will automatically self-destruct. In other words, you can't take it off, or you will die." Naruto didn't know if she was even listening to him. "I've hidden range markers around here. Now that we're in range, if you step outside those gates, the brooch will self-destruct as well. You'll die."

Her head snapped toward him. Her cauldron of emotions had clashed, and Naruto could barely discern the anger from the hopelessness from the desperation. It looked like she wanted to tear him to pieces on the spot.

Without looking away from her eyes, Naruto went on. "I have a little remote, too. There are two buttons on it. The first button will set off the trigger in your brooch. If I see you doing anything suspicious, I can kill you on the spot. The second button…" He paused. "If, in the twenty seconds that you have, you manage to escape the explosion… I can press the second button, and the larger-scaled bomb I had planted on the grounds will blow up this building."

She lunged at him, but Naruto had foreseen it, and he grabbed her wrist, forcing her down. She struggled futilely. In the limited space inside the car, his superior strength cornered her. "You can't do that!" she hissed.

"I can, and I will if I have to. Don't make me, Sakura." Just why had he taken her with him? How many times did he have to ask himself that?

"This is like a supermarket." Sakura's words caught him off guard. Her tone, as well, was resigned. Naruto stared. Had she broken so quickly? "You've barcoded me. If I leave, the alarm will go off… but it's not just an alarm, is it? How many lives are weighing down on this?"

"None, if you'll just cooperate," he told her. "It's not impossible for this night to go off without any deaths."

"Except for the target's." Her voice was bitter.

"Except for the target's," he agreed.

They were already a little late. Stalling any longer was not going to change things. Sakura would just have to pull herself together. Tearing a bandaid off quickly was most effective. Naruto got out of the car and opened her door for her. She looked at him. Not furious, not afraid. She just looked.

He smiled and held out his arm to her. "Shall we?"

* * *

A/N: Well, I guess I never said Sakura would actually escape, did I?


	5. So You Think You Can Dance

**Chapter 5: So You Think You Can Dance  
**

"Champagne?"

"No thanks."

"How about tea?"

"No."

"Oh hey, they have milkshake. Let's see… chocolate, strawberry… want some, Sakura?"

"I said _no_." They were standing so close together that no one noticed her grab a fistful of Naruto's tie. "What the hell are you doing?" Sakura spat out through gritted teeth.

Her companion blinked innocently at her. "What? It's a party, there's food. It's a waste not to have some."

"You are going to walk away and find a table to sit. Right now."

They were in line at the food table with some other guests. Uzumaki was taking his sweet time. Sakura was glad her mask screened away most of her face; she didn't think her expression at the moment was very lady-like. To compose herself, she smiled at the woman standing behind them, nodding politely.

She wanted to get away from the open. When Naruto had said they would stay a little while, she hadn't thought he would actually want to stay for most of the event. Sakura felt uncomfortably exposed. Aside from Naruto, she had been effectively cut off from the rest of the world for almost a month. She was almost surprised that she didn't want to be here, not only because she knew what Naruto intended to do, but also because she would rather be elsewhere.

Just when Sakura managed to pull Naruto away from the food table, the lights slowly dimmed and soft classical music began to thrum. She recognised this stage. Several couples – adults, Sakura observed, though she did not think of herself as a child – gathered sparsely at the centre of the spacious hall. It was time to dance.

"Come on," she muttered to Naruto, trying to drag him by his tie. She realised that she was in no position to make commands, but since he was not reacting she might as well get them to a table where hopefully no one would look their way.

Unfortunately, Uzumaki was not keen on it. "Let's dance, Sakura."

And in a heartbeat, she found herself on the dance floor.

"What are you _doing?_ You've already dragged me out here – what more do you want?" It was hard restraining her resentment to a volume that would not draw them attention.

Almost as soon as she realised the reason for her discomfort, Sakura was berating herself for her foolishness. She had never been a social butterfly – but wouldn't rousing attention benefit her? If she could convince someone that Uzumaki was dangerous… But she knew it was beyond her. She couldn't do it. He'd made it clear that she wouldn't get away with it. Or at least, the others who had attended the ball wouldn't.

Sakura could not live with that on her conscience. She had to put up with Naruto Uzumaki until he… until he finished his business. There had to be another opportunity to escape from him… That still did not change the fact that enduring her inexplicable companion was frustratingly difficult.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Naruto murmured, his voice now soft. She wondered if it was another mask of his well-orchestrated act. Looking around, it was plain that no one suspected him. _Them_, a voice in Sakura's mind whispered, but she ignored it.

"Say what?" They had somehow stepped closer to the centre of the dancing floor. The dance itself had not begun yet, but couples around them were already swaying to the musical interlude. It was impolite to walk off this close to the start of the dance. Having been raised to be courteous and well-mannered, Sakura could not bring herself to rebel against the teachings.

"'What more do you want,'" Naruto repeated her words. "I don't want anything from you."

There was no chance to throw a rebuttal at him. The music changed and Sakura instantly recognised the last chords before the dancing tune would play. And Uzumaki was just standing there, looking at her.

"If you're going to force me into this you might as well make a good show out of it," she told him unhappily.

He blinked, for once clueless. "What?"

Sakura gave an almost imperceptible nod toward their fellow dancers.

"Oh." Naruto rubbed the back of his neck, wearing a sheepish smile. "Well, err... I don't know how to dance."

She could only stare. _This can not be happening to me..._

"What do you mean you don't know how to dance?" she whispered feverishly.

"I never said I-"

The last arpeggio broke them off.

Taking a deep breath, Sakura's eyes glinted with resolve when they opened. "Hand on my waist. _Now._"

He had barely managed to do as he was told when the dance floor instantly swayed into motion. Sakura hastily laid her hand on his corresponding shoulder, snatched his other hand – and they danced.

"Don't you dare step on me," she muttered to him.

Although she knew they would eventually grow uninterested and turn away, Sakura could not help but feel like a performer while the remaining guests were watching. Her whole night was a performance, if she thought about it that way. Sakura's brow creased. Her father understood that she hated being in the spotlight. That was why he never insisted that she join him for company functions or anything of the sort. He wouldn't have forced her to a ball like this. Memories of his affection were making her homesick.

"Hey, what happened to steering?" Uzumaki spoke abruptly. Sakura snapped to attention in time to adjust her footing as he spun her around and away from a neighbouring couple. He was holding up surprisingly well.

She frowned at him. "You _do_ know how to dance."

"No I don't. I'm just doing what you're doing."

"Well, aren't you a fast learner," Sakura grumbled.

A grin slipped easily into place. "I aim to please."

As she began to grow accustomed to his movements, Sakura saw that Naruto had been speaking the truth – he was doing exactly what she was. When she moved her left foot forward, he shifted his right back to compensate. He was agile enough for his footwork to appear graceful and well-practiced, but Sakura suspected that if she stopped he would be at a loss.

Triumph blossomed proudly. Under the disarray of ambiguity and dark notions, Naruto Uzumaki was still a clumsy kid with flaws. Just another human. An infuriating one, at that.

At least he didn't step on her feet.

Sakura was unspeakably relieved to hear the music end as the second dance began. She started heading toward the tables but Naruto still had her hand and he tugged her back. "That was one dance," she told him, eager to join the handful of dancers who were leaving the dance floor.

Naruto's eyes twinkled. "I never specified, did I? Dance a little longer with me, Sakura."

A spark of anger flared before Sakura regained her poise. She was at a disadvantage against someone so stubborn. Reluctantly, she let him take her hand once more, reminding herself that she only had to hold up the charade for the rest of the night. It was daunting enough to make her groan aloud.

"What's wrong? I'm not that bad of a dancer, am I?"

She glared balefully at him. "I hate you so much."

Naruto smiled as he followed the other male dancers and twirled his partner under his arm. "I think I figured that out when you started stepping on my foot every chance you got," he said lightly. After a short pause, he added, "Am I really that hard to get along with?" There was curiosity in his voice. Unfortunately, Sakura did not feel very empathetic tonight.

"_Yes_. You are one of the biggest jerks I have ever come across." She was rewarded with a wince, though she wordlessly questioned if she had actually wounded him.

"That was harsh, Sakura. I've been nice to you, haven't I?"

"Nice?" She laughed quietly, then drew herself to her full height, looking icily into Uzumaki's eyes. "If you were nice, you would leave this ball without killing anyone or blowing me up. If you were nice, you would _let me go._"

They swayed rhythmically on the spot. Naruto held her gaze; she could almost see the calculation in his sapphire eyes. Sakura heatedly stomped her heel on his shoe without looking away, and felt a wave of cool satisfaction when his eye twitched. As she continued to stare at him, she realised that she had not taken notice of Uzumaki's mask until now. It was a simple piece; white decorated with red markings. Like hers, it only covered the upper half of his face. Somehow, it made him look faceless.

"Where would you go?"

The question startled her. "What?"

"Where would you go if I let you?" Naruto repeated.

That... she had never considered. Sakura had set her sights on liberating herself, but had disregarded what she would do if she ever achieved freedom. Her heart took a dizzying plunge. Had she thought that getting away from Naruto Uzumaki would make everything alright? That she would be able to go home and return life to the way it was? That escaping would somehow bring her father back?

_I'm such a fool_, Sakura thought dully. Uzumaki had hit the nail on the head. She had wanted to escape for the sake of staying alive. Adamant to determine her own fate, she had recklessly focused her energy into the cause... and forgotten about everything else in the process. Now, she pondered the question proposed to her. Where _would_ she go? Home was her first answer, but 'home' was just a hollow building without the essence of her father.

"Give me your answer later, alright?" Uzumaki's soft voice interrupted her thoughts. His lips were tilted in a smile – why did he have to look so damn cheerful all the time? – but his gaze was directed past her, over her shoulder. Several suited businessmen were coming down the spiralling staircase. Sakura recalled that they had been called to some sort of meeting by the masked host of the ball after the welcoming introduction.

Even with his mask obscuring half his face, Sakura could make out the gleam of a predator who had found his prey.

She gripped his arm anxiously, aware that they were the only pair standing still while the other dancers twirled around them. "No." She tried to look at his eyes through the holes in their masks. "Don't, Uzumaki."

Christ, he was smiling again. "I'll be back in twenty minutes, max. It's not polite to keep a pretty girl waiting."

"Don't," Sakura said again. She was wrong. She thought she could simply sit and wait until Uzumaki was done. She thought she would be able to walk away and return to her room without backlash. It was impossible. The weight of the assassin's objective was bearing down on her. Uzumaki was going to _kill_ someone.

Warm hands gently prised hers from Uzumaki's jacket. Sakura's eyes widened. "Just sit tight," Naruto said, and led her to one of the tables. Inquisitive gazes followed them but Sakura could not bring herself to feel self-conscious. Gently, she found herself lowered in a chair. "And be good," he reminded, his finger tapping meaningfully on the brooch.

"I'm going to run," she croaked in a whisper.

Naruto grinned, sliding a finger under her chin, tipping her face up ever so slightly. "You wouldn't," he said smoothly. His eyes glimmered as they gazed into hers. They were a powerful glint of blue; they looked cold. His smile was eerie. Sakura recoiled when his hand reached forward but he only patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Don't miss me too much."

And he melted into the crowd.

"Crap," Sakura muttered. There were people glancing at her; Sakura cringed to wonder what they thought of her. She tried to smile at them, silently urging them to look away. Their curiosity was the last thing she needed.

Now she wished she had accepted one of the drinks Uzumaki had offered her. Thankfully, a waiter swept by as if he had read her thoughts and Sakura plucked a glass of fruit juice from his tray. She drained it in one and immediately regretted it. It was making her feel sick. Or perhaps it was just the lead ball of guilt and unease that had settled at the pits of her stomach.

Sakura Haruno was a naturally level-headed person. Taking things in stride was one of her specialties. However, everything had crammed together in one disconcerting blow. Wasn't there a legal limit or anything? She breathed deeply through her nose, closing her eyes. She searched for comfort. Uzumaki would undoubtedly leave after he had finished his work here. There was hardly any reason to stay. Besides, it wasn't like she knew the target...

Yet it did not change the fact that he or she was still a human being. It was wrong to take another's life. Her father's death had spelt it out for her in glaring letters. Why did Naruto Uzumaki dabble in such... appalling acts? It felt like sin to kill another person with a clear conscience. How could he do it? He was only her age...

"May I have this dance?"

Sakura's eyes flew open. Had it been twenty minutes already? Was Uzumaki... no. It was not him. She blinked in wonder at the hand extended toward her, then raised her gaze to the unfamiliar face. She found herself looking at an unmasked young European man. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, but he looked nothing like Uzumaki. His profile was aristocratic. Intuition told her that he was the son of one of the guests.

It was another moment before she realised his request. Flustered, Sakura smiled weakly. "I don't think I-"

The smile revealed a row of white teeth. "I insist," the man said slickly. It took Sakura aback that he had spoken over her; he looked like a groomed gentleman with educated manners. Even Uzumaki rarely interrupted her, and this guy had broken basic etiquette before the introduction.

It was only her own civilised upbringing that held her back from declining. Sakura had strong opinions of people and she could see almost immediately that she would not like this person. It was impolite to turn away the dance without a good excuse, though, so she warily placed her hand in his and rose. "Just one, then," she relented, and allowed him to lead her. His hand was smooth, unlike Uzumaki's rough and calloused one.

There were only a few other couples dancing now. The majority of the guests were socialising. Such events were an open opportunity for businessmen to make important acquaintances. Sakura wondered if she knew her dance partner's parents. Kazuo Haruno had liked to keep his daughter informed of the social standings.

It was another slow dance, as traditional for conventional balls. The man she was dancing with was perhaps a couple of years her senior; he was one of the few guests that could be considered 'young'. He wasn't particularly tall – Uzumaki dwarfed him – and it did not take Sakura very long to notice that his eyes remained unrivetting on her. It was unnerving.

"You dance well." Sakura fished around for a conversational subject.

The cerulean eyes were trained on her face as he smiled slowly. "I agree. I am much better than your boyfriend, I believe," he declared. It stumped her. _My... boyfriend?_ Sakura thought blankly. He seemed to grasp her confusion. "The one you were dancing with before. He was an amateur." He stated it like he was simply giving his opinion on a book.

The one she had been dancing with before... Naruto Uzumaki. Sakura's lips thinned. "He is not my boyfriend," she told him indignantly, nose flaring. _Not even if he was the last male on the _planet!

The interest she could see on his face seemed to glow. "Oh." The man had features that could qualify as handsome, but the sneer Sakura discerned ruined the impression. He was _leering_ at her. "How convenient," he breathed, and tugged her closer to him. "My name is Lucas O'Connor. What about you?"

She immediately detached herself, smiling frostily. "The dance is over. If you'll excuse me..." She was almost surprised when O'Connor let her. Sakura did not look back as she walked stiffly down one of the adjacent corridors and slipped into the bathroom. How she had known where it was, she did not know. Perhaps she had been here before. She couldn't place the familiarity.

Standing in front of the mirror, hands gripping the edge of one of the sinks, Sakura glared into the mirror. She was going to kill Uzumaki.

* * *

He didn't even think he needed a disguise. Naruto studied the drink in his hand, tilting his head as if the angle would shed light on what he thought was ridiculously easy. It didn't. It was just that. He was holding death in his hand. More importantly, he was in control.

As always, he knew the blueprints better than the architect himself. There was no rush. Naruto took his time, swirling the beverage. It was, ironically enough, red wine. He supposed it would make up for the lack of blood in this case. It was a clean job, this one. It was the sort he preferred. Blood took a long time to wash off, and even then he continued to believe that each drop had seeped into his skin and settled at his core.

No one seemed to suspect him. He only passed a couple of waiters and another guest admiring a painting on the wall. The mansion was not as large as the Haruno estate had been, but it was rich with priceless artefacts. Naruto paused by a medieval suit of armour and briefly considered getting into it. That would give the man a heart attack and save him the effort, he'd bet. Too bad he wasn't very fond of screaming, and the thing looked quite heavy.

He didn't have time to dress up anyway. He had promised Sakura he would only take twenty minutes. His watch told him it had already been ten. Naruto wondered how the pink-haired girl was doing. Despite the security measures he had imposed, he highly doubted that Sakura would attempt to escape. She was, if anything, intelligent and he could tell that she had strong morals. She would never endanger the lives of others.

It also made him speculate if the interest he took in her was actually admiration. The Agency did not agree, but Naruto often thought that those who could put the lives of others before their own were more courageous than those who could cold-heartedly commit murder.

He knew the target would still be in the meeting room. The Agency hardly ever got anything wrong; everything had been confirmed, even the man's habits, before the files had been sent to him. Effortlessly locating the room, Naruto knocked firmly on the door, drumming out a basic beat. He plastered an easygoing smile on his face as footsteps approached on the other side. He could be unbelievably cynical at times and that didn't exactly make his job any easier.

The target was a man in his early-fifties, slightly overweight but cheerful. Surprise was evident in his features as he opened the door – even so, his pleasantries did not fail him. "I'm such a popular old man all of a sudden," he chuckled. "How can I help you, sir? Enjoying the party?"

Naruto grinned. "You bet. Nice food you've prepared, Mr Ikeda." The man just smiled and nodded, still waiting. "You've done such a great job with everything that I thought I'd just thank you for inviting me." He held out the wine. "All yours."

Ikeda laughed heartily. He didn't appear to notice that Naruto had gradually inched his way forward, edging him into the room. He wasn't even perturbed when the blonde quietly slid the door shut. Ikeda accepted the offering."Fancy that; getting a kick out of my own stuff," he said. He was a good-natured man. Naruto was glad he didn't have to plunge a knife into his back or anything of the sort. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Didn't catch your name, by the way." He chuckled one last time before taking a sip from the glass.

Naruto watched Ikeda take another look at the glass, brow furrowed, then start coughing into his hand. "Naruto Uzumaki at your service, sir. Drink up."

* * *

Sakura groaned. She was very much on the urge of letting Lucas O'Connor take Uzumaki's title of 'biggest bastard'. The jerk had been waiting for her outside the bathroom with that brazen smile of his. _What does he think I am?_ she thought furiously as she stalked right past him. _I'm not a freaking toy!_

He slinked up to her when she went over to the food table. "Another dance?" he asked.

"I'm alright, thank you. It's getting late and I thought I might eat something before I leave," Sakura answered tightly. She couldn't possibly have an appetite right now. What was taking the host so long? They usually came down and mingled with the guests, then dismissed them. It was nearing midnight.

Unless Naruto Uzumaki had gotten to him.

O'Connor casually slipped his hand around her waist. "My father owns some racehorses. It would be great to ride with you someday."

"I'm not a very good rider." Oh, but she was. She had been riding with her father since she was seven. She had only ever ridden with her father, and she was not about to let that honour be snatched away by someone like Lucas O'Connor. She doubted she would ever be able to bring herself to ride again.

O'Connor was undoubtedly another spoilt product of wealthy parents who left him to his own devices and gave him anything he asked for. It was written all over his confident smirk, the amusement in his eyes – he was not someone who understood the meaning of 'no'. Well, Sakura Haruno was not a doll that could be won and discarded without even five minute's notice.

"What was your name again?" O'Connor was uncomfortably close to her.

Her tolerance waned. "I didn't tell you. And I don't want to." She was dearly tempted to kick him somewhere painful – it was what she would usually have done. Her rather short-tempered ways of resolving matters had never endeared to her father, but she could tell that it had amused him. Except tonight she was just... tired.

O'Connor was treading dangerously on the line between tolerable and downright annoying. "Well, that's rather rude, isn't it?"

"Probably, yeah."

"I didn't expect-" She never did find out what he had been expecting.

Someone sidled up to her other side. "Yo," Naruto Uzumaki grinned. Sakura stubbornly squashed the relief that sprang at the sight of him. It was ludicrous that Uzumaki was the better gentleman.

Turning away from O'Connor, Sakura gave him a venomous look. "You're late," she said, trying to keep her tone even.

Naruto consulted his watch. "Nope. I'm actually a minute and a half early." He smiled at Sakura's scowl. His expression seemed to become slightly detached as he looked over at O'Connor, who was eyeing him judgementally.

"Can't we just leave already?" Sakura asked exasperatedly.

"I haven't finished my cake yet."

_Cake?_ And Uzumaki did have a slice of some on a plate. "You're not telling me-"

"Unless you want to clean it off for me," Naruto offered. There was something about his grin that made Sakura feel just a little more excited than usual. She looked him in the eye for a moment before taking the plate from his hand.

O'Connor looked exultant when Sakura turned back to him. "If he is not your boyfriend," he began, but Sakura was shaking her head.

"Please, just shut up."

And she slapped the cake at his face.

Uzumaki was wearing a coy smile. "Boyfriend?" he questioned.

"Not another word from you," Sakura said sternly, and dragged him to the entrance, barrelling through the stares of the other guests.

* * *

There was a distinct exuberance about the way she laughed. With her mask off, he could see her face light up with mischief. Naruto wondered if Sakura Haruno was well and truly happy. He hadn't heard her laugh like that before, and he could tell that this was her usual demeanour. She never laughed around him, always keeping her distance. He decided she had a nice laugh.

"You put me up to that," Sakura accused as they got in the car.

Naruto whistled innocently. "I've got no idea what you're talking about." He put the gear into reverse. "The guy was an asshole."

"Damn right he was." Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. "But how did you know?"

"I keep my eye on a lot of things. He was watching you the moment you stepped inside. I did a good job picking that dress, ne?"

Her mouth dropped open. It looked like she was going to protest, but then her eyes widened in horror as she stared out the windscreen. "What are you doing?" she whispered shakily.

"Going home. You were eager to, weren't you?"

Sakura scrunched herself up against the seat as if she wanted to sink straight through the back. "Don't go through the gates! Don't you remember _this_?" She grabbed the brooch, but released it quickly, afraid to touch it. She was so frightened that Naruto had half a mind to slow down and calm her. "You're going to get caught in the blast, don't you forget... _stop the car!_"

He didn't. She choked on her breath as they sped through the gates.

"Boom," Naruto said.

Nothing happened.

Hesitantly cracking an eye open, Sakura stared down at the brooch, looked at her hands, even turned back to check if they had indeed left the mansion behind. Then she rounded on Naruto. He could swear the side of his head was growing hot.

"It's a fake. The bombs never existed," he told her, before her fierce look could drill through his skull. "You could have left at any time and I wouldn't have known." He was good at playing mind-games, good at manipulation. He was good at lots of things.

Sakura sagged in her seat as the apprehension thudded home, suddenly weary. "That's not funny," she said quietly. "It wasn't funny at all." There was cold fury in her voice. Naruto was curious – was she upset that she had fallen for it, or was she simply relieved that she was still in one piece?

"Hate me even more?" He wanted to know.

"So much I can't wrap my head around it."

"Funny how you're not doing much about it. The sight of my head firmly attached to my shoulders must be very painful for you. Why don't you try wrenching it off?"

"You're driving," Sakura pointed out bitterly.

Naruto approved of her thinking. She knew the boundaries. The atmosphere was heavy as he drove down the highway. He didn't like tension, so it was satirical that he attracted it like a magnet. _I was asking for it, I guess_, he mused. He had been the one who had invited – or rather, bullied – Sakura Haruno into accompanying him to the ball. It was well within in his capabilities to pull off the kill without her. If anything, her presence had complicated matters. How many Agency rules had he broken?

There was silence. Sakura refused to speak to him. Again. She would never approve of him. It would be even more awkward living under the same roof with her now, but Naruto was still interested. Sakura Haruno was so human; so predictable, yet so _un_predictable at the same time. He did not know many people like her. The other Agents were precise with their decisions. It was something new to see Sakura flail around in the sea of emotions.

He hoped she didn't drown.

"Hey."

She ignored him.

"Aww, don't be mad. I wouldn't hurt you like that."

Now she stirred. Her head was turned away from him, facing the window. Naruto pressed a button and the pane of glass slid down a little, the draught fluttering her long hair. "This is just a game to you," Sakura said. "You don't care."

A game? Yes, a game. A game on a scarlet playing board; a game that had taken the toy guns from his hands and replaced them with the real thing; a game where he remembered all the players he had eliminated. Just a game.

"You made me think..." She shook her head, correcting herself. "You _used_ me. And you know what? I feel like shit because I knew it was coming and fell for it anyway." Fabric tore as Sakura ripped the brooch from her dress, ruining it. Naruto gingerly lowered the window for her to chuck it out. "You play dirty," she muttered.

Naruto undid his seatbelt and shrugged off his jacket. Sakura didn't even bother to point out that he should keep at least one hand on the steering wheel. They were on the highway, a single stream of asphalt that flowed in a straight line for kilometres. He dropped the jacket in her lap. "Don't want to get framed as a pervert," he said, and Sakura unenthusiastically draped it over her front, concealing the hole where she had torn out the brooch.

It was said a woman on a rampage was bad news, so Naruto decided not to provoke his companion any further. Having spent so little time around females, he didn't know what would set them off, and it wasn't like he didn't realise that he had put Sakura under a lot of emotional stress. It was almost cruel, now that he thought about it. At the time of his decision, he had thought she would appreciate going outside. He must have misjudged that.

He was expecting the rest of the ride to be silent, but then Sakura spoke up. "How did you kill him?"

"He had a very sensitive case of nut allergy. I tampered with his wine," he revealed after a pause. "I think they'll find him soon."

"How did you kill my father?"

"Stabbed him in the chest, then slit his throat."

Sakura nodded distractedly and turned back to the window. Only a second had passed when she abruptly snapped her head back to look at him. "Did you say nut allergy?" she asked sharply.

Taking his eyes off the road, Naruto blinked at her. "Yeah, I did."

It took him a moment to realise that the garrotted sound had come from Sakura.

"Sakura?" Naruto frowned.

She just bit her lip and shook her head.

Naruto did not like being left out, not to mention that Sakura suddenly bore a look of resignation. He drove for another five minutes, and then pulled up by the side of the road. A car behind them blared its horn but he ignored it. Road rules hardly bothered him, but Sakura Haruno did. It was hard to explain, but Naruto felt he had a responsibility to look after the girl; he had killed her father and made the decision that was the reason she was here. He could have easily ended her life there and then – but he hadn't, and there were times when he wondered if Sakura would eventually lose her reason to live.

He leaned forward, cocked his head, trying to catch sight of her face. "You okay?"

Again, Sakura shook her head.

"So you're not okay."

Kept shaking her head.

Naruto reclined back, at a loss. What could have... "No." Sometimes he wished his mind did not churn that quickly. He stared at her. There weren't coincidences like that... unless it wasn't a coincidence. "You're kidding me."

"Uzumaki." Sakura's voice was curiously strong. "Have you ever had someone who loved you die?"

It made him stiffen. Then he relaxed, smoothing the unease. "Yeah. One."

Sakura glanced at him but did not comment. The next breath she exhaled hissed through her clenched teeth. "Konosuke Ikeda is... was one of my father's best friends. He was like an uncle to me." _And you just killed him_.

Naruto felt something inside him contract guiltily. "Oops," he said softly.

"Yeah... oops." Sakura shrugged, a ghost of a smile slinking into her features. "No biggie, huh?"

Was it a coincidence or had the same client ordered Ikeda's death? It did not change reality – Naruto had killed two people Sakura Haruno had cared about. The number of deaths caused by his hand was not a number easily looked over, but although he did grieve in his own way, he had never had a case where he had to live with someone like Sakura. She would only be able to look at him as a killer. He wouldn't blame her if she thought he was purposefully picking off the people close to her one by one.

_I shouldn't have taken her out tonight._

Later, as they stood together in the elevator, Naruto saw the glistening tracks of tears on Sakura's cheeks reflected in the polished doors.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She stepped out the moment the doors slid open, not looking at him, and he heard her mutter, "You don't mean it."

But he did and he had no idea why.

* * *

A/N: AUs are AUs for a reason, I guess. It's hard to keep the characters in character. Lucas O'Connor was just someone I made up on the spot. I considered replacing him with someone from canon, but I couldn't think of a way to relate to anyone and I didn't like the idea of using them for one chapter and then never mentioning them again. Besides, no one in canon is that much of a jerk.

I'm starting to realise that this story really splits your opinions. You either like Naruto or you hate him. I'm interested to know what you guys think. I've developed him very skeweredly. I personally think he's alright, but he can be a complete and utter bastard if he wants to.

Oh, and yes, the way Konosuke Ikeda (another of my random characters) died was influenced by The Da Vinci Code book, which I'm reading again for the weekend. I think a tad bit of the first chapter was influenced by it as well.


	6. Food For Thought

**Chapter 6 – Food For Thought**

Three. Sakura now hated the number with a passion.

It was the number of times Naruto Uzumaki had entered her room when she least needed him there.

The first time, he came up with a cup of instant ramen. It was always ramen. This time, it was ramen and a book with a clasp. "It's a diary," he told her. "There's a pen inside. Write whatever you want. I don't care. I won't look."

He was about to leave when Sakura raised her voice. "Wait." He did, and watched impassively as she got up and flipped open the diary, almost tearing the pen from its holder. She roughly etched an 'I', then adorned the next page with an equally angry 'H'.

When she had 'I HATE YOU' scrawled over eight pages, Sakura dropped the pen, ignored the ache in her hand from clenching it so tightly, and flipped through them – slowly, as if he were a child and needed the time to digest single letters – for Uzumaki to see. He betrayed no emotion. She threw the book at him. It struck his shoulder with a hard-edged corner and she hoped that it left a bruise.

Barely an hour later, the sound of the lock unbolting echoed in her ears again, and Sakura heard herself growl. Why couldn't he just leave her _alone_? Uzumaki poked his head in again, saw the untouched ramen. If she had been paying attention, she would have seen his mouth pull down in a frown. "You should eat," he said quietly, and left her again.

Sakura wanted to scream so, so badly.

Uncle Konosuke had always been very nice to her. He was practically a blood-related relative. How many times had she skipped down the staircase to open the door to his bright grin? Uncle had something for her every time he visited. At times it was a book, a new soft drink on the market, or simply a clumsily-made paper crane. He had been a family friend since before Sakura had been born.

She hadn't seen him for almost a year now, yet Sakura remained fond of the man. But although she grieved for him, it only made her long for her father even more. What would he think of this? Her father was so level-headed... would he snap if he found out his friend had been killed? He'd never find out, would he? She couldn't tell if she was glad or not.

Sakura's eyes fell on the unwanted diary by the door. It had fallen open on the page bearing the letter 'U'. Why had she written 'I HATE _YOU_' and not 'I HATE NARUTO UZUMAKI'? You. She wondered if she would look through the book years later, as you were supposed to with diaries, and wonder who 'YOU' was. A jolt rippled her stomach as she pondered just how long she would remain under Uzumaki's custody if she did not manage to escape. The likelihood that she would die an unnatural death was extremely high.

Finding herself to be eerily collected was puzzling after such a realisation. It felt like she was looking in on herself from a third person's view, distanced and detached. _My life would make a popular TV drama,_ she mused with dark humour.

Sakura threw the blankets over herself and burrowed deep in the folds, curling up until she felt stifled and unable to breathe. _If I could shrink to the size of an ant_, she fantasised in the artificial darkness, _I would be able to escape out the window_. She felt very small right now.

It wasn't long before her stomach started to growl, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since returning from the ball last night. It was almost four in the afternoon.

The ramen was distastefully cold by the time she peeled back the lid. Sakura recalled a period where she would starve herself simply to spite Uzumaki. It had given her a triumphant sense of rebellion. How stupid she had been. The jerk wasn't worth it. But she had never liked cold food, so she grabbed a towel and a spare change of clothes from the cupboard and headed into the shower instead. Uzumaki must be doing her laundry for her, she realised as the water spilled over her shoulders. What a hen.

Again, she was unnerved by how ridiculously _calm_ she was – for all she knew, the ramen could have been her last meal. Where was this confidence coming from? She must have benefited from her brief tantrum more than she'd thought. Or maybe she was becoming emotionless. It was impossible to tell.

Sakura flipped sodden hair back from her face and sullenly leaned her forehead against the shower door. Her breath misted on the already-steamy glass surface. The water fell rhythmically against her back and she allowed her eyes to slide shut for a moment. A frustrated sob choked from her throat but she couldn't be sure if she was crying since her face was already wet.

Useless. Wasn't there anything she could actually _do_, damn it?

Oh yes, she hated being a realist.

As she perfunctorily got dressed, Sakura looked dully at her hazy reflection in the mirror. It almost looked like she was faceless through the mist. Faceless, just like a nobody.

She was aware that other teenagers were concerned with their social identity and paranoid of becoming such an unnoticeable person that they would fade into a marionette with an easily forgotten name. Such baggage had never been a concern of Sakura Haruno's, having been home-schooled by specialised tutors since she had been a child.

There were moments where she had wondered what it would be like to be an average girl, someone without a wealthy father and sheltered lifestyle. Would she have... friends? She hadn't experienced desolate loneliness for a long time now and had never seen the need for friends, because Father was all she needed, and if he was too busy, Uncle Konosuke would drop by, and even if _he_ was unavailable, she still had the servants who had been there since her birth.

And they were all gone now. All she had was her father's murderer. Whom she hated. And wanted to hurt, punish and maul but couldn't – and _wouldn't_. Revenge – what did it even mean? It was not a ladder which extended into a safe and blissful haven; more like a dark pit dropping to the depths of Hell.

Sakura looked around blankly for a shirt, then realised that she must have forgotten to bring one in. She sighed, dumped her clothes into a basket in the corner, and stepped out of the bathroom.

Naruto Uzumaki. On the bed. Staring wide-eyed at her.

"Shit!" they cried simultaneously.

Sakura immediately ducked back inside the bathroom, flushing with such chagrin that her breaths hitched. She wasn't exceptionally embarrassed about her body – but this was not her father, not Rokurou or any other man. This was _Uzumaki_. He may be an incredibly misleading persona, but he was still a male – and he was her age. "Wh-what are you doing in here?" she demanded shakily, fighting down the urge to shriek.

"I wanted to... actually, forget it." He cut himself off awkwardly. "Just... get some clothes on first."

She had to admit that she was a tad bit amused, though, despite the hot embarrassment searing her insides like a torrent of magma – of all the things Uzumaki could have found uncomfortable. And of all the other alternatives, she just _had_ to find out about it under such circumstances. _At least I have my pants on..._

"I... need a shirt." God, her face was heating up. Badly.

She heard him mutter something to himself, then self-consciously clear his throat. "Go get it. I-I won't look. Promise."

Her eyes narrowed and she pressed herself into the cool, tiled wall as she peeked into the room. Indeed, his eyes were closed – quite tightly, she might add. Cautiously, she inched out. Cool air chilled her skin, but she didn't think it was the cause of her goose bumps. "Don't try anything," she intoned dangerously. He nodded hastily, eyes still squeezed shut. Sakura darted out, grabbed the first shirt she saw in the cupboard, and threw it on gratefully.

After a while, not daring to crack open an eye, Naruto asked, "Are you done yet?" Reading his emotions was easier said than done.

Sakura felt utterly humiliated. Not only had her dignity suffered a blow, she had also shown weakness. She had started the day off by boldly expressing her raw hatred – and now she was practically at mortification's mercy.

Naruto's discomfiture did not help, either. It only stressed his nature as a teenager, a _human_. She was still struggling to accept that he was not a living nightmare or a mindless robot. He was still a human, just like her. A horrible person, yes, but he was all flesh and bone. If she cut him – and now she didn't even know if she could manage _that_ – he would bleed.

She was beginning to think of him as a person, even if the first words she related to him were generally synonyms of 'bastard'. That only made him even more difficult to figure out – except she didn't _want_ to figure him out. She didn't want to know, see, touch, hear him – she didn't want him to exist at all.

Honestly, she had no idea how the pillow had gotten in her hands. Or how she ended up hitting Uzumaki over and over with it. She did know if felt good to hear his yelps, though, and she could almost forgive herself for not grabbing something harder.

"Hey, hey! Stop it!" Uzumaki's muffled laughter only served to infuriate her even more. How dare he!

She put more strength behind her onslaught, but the pillow naturally softened the force. Finally recognising her fury, he seized the improvised weapon with all too much ease, smiling when Sakura grunted and struggled to free it. Tasting defeat, she renounced it, threw her end at his face, and stormed to the barred window, seething.

"I've never had a pillow fight before," Naruto said airily. Sakura looked sharply at him, ignoring the fact that she could relate to his experience; she had played chess with her father, had found a gaming partner in the surprisingly free-spirited Yvonne – but she'd had no one who would retaliate if she ever tossed a pillow at them. It was quite stress-relieving, she discovered.

But she wasn't going to tell him any of that. "Get out." Then, after a moment of thought, scornfully added, "Please." If she had thought that would get rid of him, she was sorely mistaken.

From the corner of her vision, Sakura saw Naruto gesture toward the ramen on the table. "I heated it up for you."

"Thanks, but no thanks." She couldn't eat with him in the room and even if he offered to leave, the damage was already done.

Silence chilled the air. Sakura cast around, wondering if Uzumaki had left without her noticing, but he was still on the bed, seemingly engaged in his thoughts. She took a minute to observe him. His elbows were rested on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. She had somehow deemed him more honourable than Lucas O'Connor. Now how had that happened? She hadn't thought that anyone could rank lower than Naruto Uzumaki on her preference list. Sakura couldn't help but think that their relationship would be so much simpler if she had every nameable reason to despise him.

"_You have to remember that things will not always go the way you want them to, Princess_," a lilted voice murmured in her ear, warm with affection. Clenching her fists, she gently discouraged it. _Please, Father..._

Sakura was suddenly aware that Naruto was speaking to her. She had already automatically turned towards the sound of his voice before she remembered that she was supposed to be standing her firm ground. "What now?" she huffed. She didn't meet his eyes.

"Do you feel like going out?" he wanted to know.

"Going... out?" Sakura repeated, arching a sceptical eyebrow. It was his wordless nod, so calm, so casual, that reminded her of the night he had invited her to the ball. The night he had taken another life – a life she had thought would not affect her. "Oh, no. No, no, no." She started shaking her head, backing up until she was pressed against the wall. Naruto slowly rose to his feet, stepping toward her. A shaky laugh escaped her. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't know enough people for you to make a sport out of killing them."

Naruto stopped. Something flashed in his eyes, a trace of sadness lingering. "You're only able to see me as a killer, huh?"

Once Sakura had made eye contact with him, the intensity held her fast. Uzumaki actually looked sorrowful and the pink-haired girl was tempted to tell him that, no, she also thought he was an idiot, a jerk and a damn frustrating guy – but she kept it down, convincing herself that he didn't deserve it.

Yet she couldn't muster the mercilessness to look him in the eye and lie so blatantly. She could lie unblinkingly about other matters – she already had – but this felt immoral. Uzumaki may enjoy making her life hell, but she did not have it in her to follow his example.

So she just tipped her head back and stared hard at him, challenge sparking in her eyes. He wasn't up to it – she wondered if he truly wanted to know her answer – and eventually turned his head away. It was one of the few times he had backed down to her will.

Perhaps he couldn't tolerate this sudden assertion of authority. Sakura's eyes widened as Naruto unexpectedly took another step forward, reaching for her. An involuntary step had her stumbling, her heel knocking against the wall behind her. "Wait-" she blurted, but by then the blonde had already stopped and was painstakingly scrutinising her expression of provoked fear with unrecognisable curiosity.

His outstretched fingers twitched a little, tentative, and then he let his arm fall to his side. "Sakura, listen to me," he said, and she found herself unwillingly focusing intently on his voice. "I'm not taking you out to... kill someone. Trust me."

Her response was one-worded and held incomprehensible depth. "_How_?"

To her surprise, Naruto chuckled. "Fair enough." He got back on track. "If you're okay with it, we can go out for lunch. Get some fast food, you know?"

Sakura shook her head.

"You don't? Gee, I didn't know rich people were so-"

"What are you hiding, Uzumaki? No – what are you _thinking_?" Sakura chewed on her lip, her molars biting into her gums. "Tell me."

He was mute for over a minute, holding himself in a manner not unlike a statue. "You need to eat. I know you hate me, I know you probably want to kill-"

"No. I don't – I'm not going to be like you. Never," Sakura was quick to let him know, her voice rising. With no love lost between them, she wouldn't mind if he was dead, but she was not about to entice herself to the role of the killer. No. Father would be so very disappointed in her.

He raised his hands, whether in surrender or to placate her, she didn't know. "I'm not going to hurt you, Sakura." She turned her head away, hating how his voice was soft and gentle. "No bombs, no threats. No strings attached."

"... Why are you trying so hard? Exactly what are you trying to achieve? Taking me out onto the streets; if people recognise me, how is that going to benefit you? How is _helping_ me benefitting you?"

"You ask a lot of questions," he observed amusedly. "Like I used to."

She gave him a cold look. "Don't compare me with you. Please. It's... it's pointless."

"Sakura. Do you want to go or not?" It suddenly occurred to her that he wanted her opinion, her judgement. He would base his actions off _her_ decision. Sakura gradually came to understand the nagging sensation she had been experiencing.

He was not forcefully dragging her down the staircase, not openly manipulating or threatening her.

Naruto Uzumaki was giving her a choice.

Although she was wary of the offer, Sakura had half a mind to accept. Somehow, Uzumaki had changed his attitude towards her – maybe he was opening himself up? Perhaps she could take advantage of this lapse. She wanted to know why he was doing all this. She wanted to know why she was alive, why he was supporting her despite the burden she clearly was to his lifestyle. _Why am I not thinking about how to break free when he's not looking?_ she wondered absently, but she already knew. Some part of her, thrust deeply in the back of her consciousness, could already tell that this was the wrong moment. Running when he would expect it was suicidal.

And she _was_ hungry.

"You're paying," she told him, and resisted the urge to grab the pillow again when he smiled at her. Why was she irked by his smile? Because she could tell it was genuine, that's why.

* * *

Uzumaki seemed to live further away from town than she had presumed. Not that she was surprised; only secrecy would befriend a man like him. Five minutes into the trip, Sakura began to play with the radio, tetchily twiddling the dials. She waited for her companion to complain or at least give some indication that her meddling was getting on his nerves. It didn't come. Scowling, Sakura switched it off.

Then he started to hum. She had heard him hum a couple of times before, but had not noticed how rhythmic and... soothing it was. Sakura gazed out her side of the window, watched the scenery evolve from shabby streets to unoccupied land to high-rise apartments. Gradually, she began to lose herself in Naruto's low thrums.

Kazuo Haruno had been a doting father, but not many were aware that he had not adored his daughter from the beginning. Only Hotaru, who had served the Harunos since their marriage, remembered. And Sakura. Sakura remembered the loneliness.

"Your father is just sad," Hotaru had told her. "He misses your mother." Father must have really loved her mother, young Sakura concluded, since he was so busy immersing himself in his work or visiting his wife's grave that he had no time for his own daughter. Even on the rare occasions that she found her way onto his lap, he would just smile wearily at her, and return to his newspaper. There was no bond, no connection, and Sakura just wanted to be loved.

She was five when it had been too much for her. Why did Uncle Konosuke play with her more than Father did? Why didn't Father know that all she had wanted for her birthday was a warm, tender hug, and not a chance for her to redecorate her room whichever way she pleased?

She had pulled herself free of Hotaru's hand and latched desperately onto her father's leg as he put on his shoes for work. "What's wrong?" he had asked her, surprised, and she had told him exactly what was wrong. She showered him with pleas – please spend more time with her; please don't buy her things she didn't need or like; please love her. Please be her father, because sometimes she just wasn't sure if he was.

Father began to change for her. Every December, he would take time off work to go on vacation with her. It was just the two of them together, and Sakura learned to love her father. They had come a long way. "And you know what, little princess?" Hotaru laughed when Sakura had asked her to recount that day. "You didn't even cry. I think that was what Mr Haruno saw. You were growing up too quickly."

Presently, the pink-haired girl wondered if his death would still have devastated her to this degree if they had remained distant. It was possible that she would not have met Naruto Uzumaki at all; there was no reason to venture into a stranger's room, even if it was for dessert.

Sakura brushed a lock of hair away from her face. Father had liked to braid her hair; he had learned specifically just for her. Had she hurt herself by growing so attached to him? She knew so many things about him. Her father was right-handed, but insisted on doing everyday tasks with his left hand; his favourite sport was basketball; his drawing abilities made his daughter's first artwork look magnificent. She missed his traits, missed _him_. She was yearning for his attention all over again, only this time he would never oblige.

"Ano sa... I think we're lost."

Oh yes, Father had gotten them lost in the mountains once. That had been quite memorable...

_... Wait a minute. _Sitting up straighter, Sakura turned in her seat, training her eyes on Uzumaki. Didn't say anything – just stared.

Uzumaki leaned forward and squinted at the next road sign that passed. "... I can't even pronounce that. Yep, we're lost," he announced merrily.

The car didn't even slow down and he gave no outward indication that he had any intention to pull over. "Do you even know where we're going?"

"Not really. I was aiming for town, but it looks like I missed the exit on the freeway."

"Then just turn around and go back." Naruto began to whistle very conspicuously and adjusted the air conditioning, not answering her. Sakura's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You see... we came out of the freeway ten minutes ago. I've just been driving around at random."

Sakura resorted to a sigh, running a hand through her hair. Was there a particular reason why she was not experiencing a flare of annoyance? She wasn't even frustrated. Just... amazed that someone so _stupid_ could interpret complicated plans of action to infiltrate well-secured buildings.

They waited at a light, watching pedestrians cross in front of them. How easy would it be to run out of the car at this moment and flee? The door wasn't even locked. Uzumaki couldn't do much in public. But that would stir a scaled ruckus, wouldn't it? People would get hurt. Sakura looked away. "Uzumaki," she said, and had to pause when he turned to her. "Do you have a street directory?"

His face brightened. "Sure I do. I just can't read it."

Drawing on an ample amount of patience, Sakura calmly acknowledged this ridiculous statement. "Park the car and get it out. Let me see it." She had plenty of experience with maps; her father had not been the most orientated driver. She had lost count of how many times they had wandered onto the wrong path. But it hadn't mattered back then; Father had been alive.

Naruto pulled up at the side of the road after the light had changed. She didn't even notice that he had gotten out to rummage through the boot until he dropped a thick volume on her lap. Sakura shook herself out of her reverie and opened it, aware that her companion had his attention focused solely on her. She didn't look at him. "What is this street called?"

He had no idea, so he drove them further up the road, stopping a few car spaces from the street sign. He read it out to her, and she flipped through the index until she had the directory open on the correct page. "We should be here," she told him, pointing to the lower right-hand corner of the page. He leaned across to see and Sakura uncomfortably shifted as his head loomed close. "Where were you planning to go?" she asked distractedly. His hair smelled of herbal shampoo.

"Let me see if I can find the freeway first..." Naruto picked up the map and turned it this way and that, struggling to settle on the correct direction to read it. Her mouth twitching, Sakura slapped his hand away and flipped it the right way for him. A farcical grin flashed across his face – one which she saw no hint of a murderer in – and traced his finger over a thick yellow line on the page. "Let's see... uh, turn to page three hundred and..."

In the meantime, Sakura stared out the window, observing businessmen hurrying home from work. They didn't look at her, or even at the car, though she had the feeling the windows were tinted. Kazuo Haruno, wealthy entrepreneur, found dead – surely that would be covered by media. What of his daughter's disappearance? If only she could doubt her certainty. Noticing a discarded paper flapping about at the sidewalk, buffeted by the winds she could not feel, Sakura tried to picture a photo of her father and herself on the cover, preferably the one they had taken in Luxembourg two summers ago; she liked that one the most.

Listening to Uzumaki grumble beside her, Sakura considered her situation. It was a... unique one. The notion that this would happen to _her_ had never cut quite as close as reality. Kazuo Haruno, Konosuke Ikeda... Sakura Haruno. Names, just names. She smiled grimly, defiantly struggling to maintain a strong front, to give the impression that she would not let this break her.

Sakura withdrew from the window, the pane of glass which barred her from the rest of the world. She leaned backed into the headrest, exhaling slowly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she slipped into a thoughtless void, barely even registering that Naruto was studying her contemplatively, a flicker of curiosity and faint understanding kept sheltered in his eyes.

"You're on the news," he said shortly, and gave her a small smile when she opened her eyes and slowly turned her head toward him, jade eyes unfazed. To clarify, he nodded across the road. Sakura followed the movement, but no sooner had she spotted the newspaper stand did she realise that, tucked into a nook on the other side of the steering wheel, was a slim grey device. All suspicions of telepathy petered out.

"You have a GPS," she deadpanned. It was near impossible to discern genuine surprise from mock as Naruto inspected the gadget with sudden interest, studying it as if he had absolutely no idea how it had escaped his notice when he had no doubt been looking at it while driving.

"Ah, so I do," he agreed finally, with a sheepish shrug. "Oops." He said it as if to draw a smile from her, or even a groan of disbelief. She gave him neither. Unperturbed, Naruto shrugged again, twisted around to toss the street directory onto the back seats, and began fiddling with the GPS.

Sakura did not look away. She watched him, but at the same time took in none of his actions. The longer she stared at his features, the clearer she could see her father's body, bleeding mercilessly on the worn carpet. Then the features of Uzumaki's face abruptly began to transform; his jaw line roughed up with stubble, familiar contours rose like the birth of a new continent... the corners of his eyes crinkled, just the way Father's used to...

At last, finding it impossible to bear, she tore her eyes away, breathing shallowly. The mechanical beeping sounds faltered, but when she sneaked a glance at him, Naruto was still scrolling down the GPS' menu.

She couldn't even look at him at the moment. "You ruined my life."

He evenly pressed another button. "I forgot to ask you earlier – do you like McDonald's or KFC?"

KFC, because she and her father had celebrated her birthday there. "McDonald's."

With a cool nod, he entered in the details, locating the nearest restaurant, and she wondered if he had even planned anything beforehand. Minutes later, he pulled the car out of the spot, following the first set of spoken instructions that the GPS relayed to him. Sakura had been sighing and berating herself for agreeing to this when his low voice intruded on her thoughts.

"What are you thinking?" The inquiry actually stunned her for a fraction of a second. Somehow, Sakura had thought that Uzumaki was frequently aware of each thought that crossed her mind. Although he mucked up at times, she could tell that he was in perfect control of his composure, and he was never uncertain, hardly ever doubting his decisions. He could read her so well. And yet he had to ask.

Sakura delayed her reply by leaning forward to play with the radio again. Naruto did not prompt her. Barely a minute later, she came across a channel broadcasting a news report, and instantly switched it off. She didn't need this right now.

"Sakura." There was patience in his voice and she knew then that he would not be satisfied without a reasonable answer.

"I'm wondering how far hatred can get me." She looked sideways at Uzumaki. "What do you think?"

He was silent for a moment, thinking, his eyes glazing to the point where she worried he would lose control of the vehicle. "Pretty far. But sooner or later you'll hit a dead end."

"Are you saying I can't hate you forever?"

"Well, that's for both of us to find out, isn't it?"

"We never will," she said firmly. She waited for his reaction – expecting an amused smirk or a belated word of protest – but he only began to hum again.

* * *

Naruto liked to think that he was learning. Learning what, exactly? He didn't know. How to interact with others, perhaps. For someone who had lived in solitude for so long, he was amazed to discover how silence could render the atmosphere between two people awkward. He found himself unable to control the amount of small talk that gushed forth from his over-eager mouth, and the more Sakura Haruno ignored him, the harder he persisted.

As curious as he was to know what she was thinking, he realised, as the GPS repeatedly squawked that he had taken the wrong turn, that he barely knew what was going through his own mind. Taking Sakura to the ball had been a drastic risk, but he'd been able to suppress her will to escape with threats. Now this? He was surprising himself. If the Agency got wind of this, he'd be in more trouble than he could comprehend.

"You're about to miss it again." Since she had grown progressively quieter upon entering the town, Sakura's voice almost startled him. Almost, because nothing short of his deceased mentor springing back to life could truly startle him.

Tuning back into his surroundings, Naruto found that Sakura was right. He quickly switched lanes before the lights turned, and rounded into the McDonald's car park. She must be pretty fed up with his driving by now. He would hazard a guess and say that she was fed up with _him_.

Naruto parked the car in a vacant spot and turned off the engine. He turned to Sakura, who gave him an unreadable glance before promptly averting her gaze again. "So, what do you want to eat?"

Her reply definitely took him aback. "Do you have split personalities?"

He blinked, then tilted his head. "No. Why would you ask that?"All he received was a shrug. "Oh come on, don't be like that."

He had been told that he had a penetrating stare. It didn't take much to see if it worked with Sakura. Before long, he had her squirming uncomfortably in her seat. "I just don't understand you," she grumbled.

Naruto lowered his hands, trying to recall when he had raised them in a helpless gesture. _"I just don't understand you..."_ Now why did that ring bells? Hadn't he heard that from someone else before? Ino, most likely. It definitely sounded like the sort of thing she would say.

His actions must be so very suspicious to Sakura. He had seen movies where a kidnapper would lock his victim up in a remote shed, gagged and bound roughly to a rotting chair, all the while demanding a ransom. But he wasn't doing any of that. If anyone found out that Sakura Haruno was under his custody... it would be unbelievably messy.

_Why did I bring her out again?_

Naruto gazed perplexedly at his reflection in the side mirror. Beside him, Sakura released her seatbelt, but instead of scrabbling at the lock and making an anticipated getaway, she merely shifted onto her side, away from him. Looking at her back made him feel uncomfortable. He hadn't known Konosuke Ikeda was an important person to her. He doubted knowing would have had an impact on the outcome though – orders were orders – but he felt that he would have at least retained the tact to keep her uninformed.

He truly felt sorry, which was extremely uncharacteristic of him. Guilt was a confusing emotion that he hardly ever saw the need to experience. Naruto glanced at the restaurant and at the children running wild in the playground. Had he thought that he could somehow make it up to her this way? It wasn't like an unhealthy dose of junk food would miraculously heal a person. Just how stupid was he?

He knew, though. Naruto simply could not hurt innocents. The tattered morals and ethics that he lived by held him back from striking Sakura Haruno. Unfortunately, that only complicated matters tenfold.

"Hey." He laid a hand on her head, gently, like he was much older than her. Which he wasn't. She shuffled and he noticed her elbow jerk with the contact, but she did not snap at him. Naruto grimaced and hesitantly pulled away. "Is a burger and fries alright for you?" No reply. "I'm going to order if you're not going to say anything." This time, he was rewarded with a miniscule jerk of head that he almost missed. "Okay then."

Despite all the irrational steps he had taken, Naruto was nowhere near dense enough to leave Sakura alone in the car, or even take her inside with him. He started the car up and joined the short line of vehicles at the drive-through. As they waited, he wondered if he should remind her that he was more than capable of speeding off and leaving her body in the dirt if she tried anything suspicious.

Before he could do so, however, the line moved up. With one last look at Sakura's turned back, Naruto placed an order for large fries, a Filet-O-Fish burger and a Chicken Nugget 12 Pack. The smiling girl, younger than him in appearance, asked him what drink he would like: one Coke and, after a second of thought, one Mountain Dew. He noticed the girl peek pryingly inside at Sakura as she handed him his change and directed him further up the line to pick up his meal. He tensed, but she didn't seem to recognise the heiress. They moved on without commotion.

All at once, Naruto realised why Sakura had withdrawn. She was restraining herself from bolting while the car was stopped and minimising the chances of people recognising her. She knew consequences down to the last letter.

"I really didn't know about Ikeda," Naruto felt the need to tell her when they were on the road again, two brown takeaway bags and drinks sitting between them.

"What's it to you?" she asked sullenly. The moment she talked, he knew that his assumption had been correct. _I'm actually starting to understand her a little_, he thought. He never thought he would see the day.

"I'm just trying to-"

"Alright," Sakura interrupted, her voice rising. Then she stopped and breathed deeply. "You didn't know," she continued. "Fine. Just drop it already. If you really want to feel better, give Uncle Konosuke and my father back." She hadn't expected guilt from him at all, but she found herself unimpressed by his confession.

"You know that's impossible." He'd had to accept that crushing reality years ago, that the blood on his hands would not flow back into the broken body he had just shredded through.

"Stop it, Uzumaki. I don't want to attack you while you're driving."

Naruto opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He drove them to a nearby beach that he frequented and stopped the car at a ledge that overlooked the sea. Sakura should have noticed by now that he hadn't needed to use his GPS; getting lost had been a facade. A silly one. He had simply wanted to see how she would react, and true to his premise he had been able to see a different side of Sakura Haruno. The annoyed side.

He reached into one of the bags and took out the fries. He offered the packet to Sakura, concurrently stuffing a handful in his mouth. She stared at it for a moment. Then she took one – just one, holding it delicately, as if she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. "You don't like it?" Naruto asked, a little incredulously. He had been living off takeout until he had aimlessly decided that he would cook while Sakura Haruno was with him.

She shook her head and popped it in her mouth. "I just don't eat a lot of junk food, that's all," she muttered.

He gestured to the two drinks. "Which one do you want?" She took the Mountain Dew and he smiled when she bit deeply into the burger. "Do you think we could try to be friends for one day?" he suggested.

The look in Sakura's eyes was baleful. "Not unless I can forget what you've done. And I can't. So no."

"But I've helped you."

"And you've hurt me."

"Not intentionally."

She pointed to her head. "Excuse me?" she said bitingly.

"... Not since that one." He took a sip of Coke but it tasted bitter somehow. The liquid fizzed and burned down his throat like alcohol. "I'm trying to be nice here. If you'd just cooperate-"

She let him say no more. "Think about what you're saying, Uzumaki!" It appeared that she would very much like to throw her drink at him. "You can let me out right now, let me go home – but my life will never be the same. Not even if I want it to be. Do you understand? I'll never be able to _forget_."

Forget? No, she was right. Forgetting wasn't easy at all.

"So are you saying," he began, "that there's no difference between letting you go and keeping you with me?" Her eyes widened at his words. "Is that what you mean?"

"I..." Stumped for words, Sakura's mouth hung open. But just when Naruto thought that he had cracked her, she launched herself back into the scrimmage with a pain stricken, "_No._" He raised an eyebrow and she ploughed on. "I'll be free of you. I won't have to wake up and wonder if today will be my last day alive. I won't have to look at you and realise that Father was looking at the exact same thing before he died. _That's_ the difference." By now, her voice was trembling and her fingers had pressed unsightly gouges into her burger. Barbeque sauce slowly oozed out, spreading thickly on her hand.

Silently, he handed her a serviette. The gesture brought a cornered gleam to Sakura's eyes but she concealed it by snatching the napkin. She shakily wiped the sauce off. The procedure seemed to have therapeutic effects, working the anxious jerks out of her movements. Naruto gulped down another mouthful of Coke while she composed herself.

"That man – Ikeda... his death was ordered because he refused to give up his share of your father's company." Sakura's head came up immediately. He had spent the previous night on the phone pressing for more details from the only person at the Agency willing to help him. "He said that only Kazuo Haruno's daughter could claim ownership of his property, not foreigners who tried to absorb the company into their own. The ball that night was a meeting to convince the remaining shareholders. Your Uncle Konosuke believed you were alive."

He had never felt the aftermath of remorse so strongly before, bar his first kill. It was his fault, he knew. Taking Sakura Haruno and keeping her by his side had caused his conscience to reach out to her. He _knew_ her. That was why he felt so bad.

His frown deepened. "You're crying."

In a valiant attempt to look strong, Sakura dashed the tears from her eyes, sniffing. "So?" The defiant look in her eyes reminded him of... himself.

"It's bad to keep those tears locked in, you know. It's better to let them out."

She ignored him altogether. Sighing, Naruto brought his drink to his lips again. Empty. He crumpled it without second thought, but paused when Sakura winced at the violent grating. He gingerly dropped the crushed can into the bag, pulling out the chicken nuggets instead. "You want some?" he asked Sakura. An anticipated shake of head somehow drained the appetite from him. He forced down a couple anyway.

Sakura's cheeks glistened with silent tears when they drove back. Naruto could hear them spatter against the back of her hand as they fell. "I don't even know what I'm crying about," she muttered midway, though she made no attempt to wipe her face.

"Onions, maybe?"

Even with red eyes her glare was admirable. "Very funny, Uzumaki." She did not sound spiteful, not even when he chuckled. In essence, the poorly made joke could have been mocking her, and although that had not been his intention, Sakura could well have interpreted it that way.

He soon came to understand why she was tolerating him. It came abruptly. "I'm glad." Sakura's words sounded rushed and she seemed to realise it. Slowing down, she elaborated. "I'm glad that Uncle Konosuke wasn't killed for other reasons." 'Other reasons' had to be her doubt that illegal activities had been involved. He understood; people weren't ordered to be killed for no reason. "It sort of tells me that Father was..."

"Innocent," Naruto filled in for her, speaking the word softly. _Like you._

Sakura nodded, the drying tracks of her tears glimmering. "Don't get too used to hearing this, but... I guess, thank you, Uzumaki. I needed to hear that - I still hate you though," she added informatively.

Confused by the unexpected gratitude, Naruto completely missed his cue to reply. The car swept into his apartment's garage, plunging the interior in the yellowish glow of the overhead lights. Sakura's poker face gave him little chance to confirm if he had truly heard what he had. He did hear something that sounded suspiciously like 'idiot' when he got out of the car though.

* * *

_Father,_

_You know I don't keep diaries. I'm thinking of this as a letter. I wish you could answer me, Father. I'm going to go mad if I keep all these thoughts to myself. I wish you were here. _

_I don't know how to think of Uzumaki anymore. I tolerate him when I can and just ignore him when I can't. He keeps smiling at me now and I swear he is becoming more like a kid with each day. It's almost like he has something to prove. What? That he isn't that bad? I thought he had established that already. Even I have to admit that he could have been someone much worse. He's just so young that I can't think of him as what he really is._

_He's making me watch television with him after dinner every day since we came back from that trip to town last week. I can't tell what he's thinking. He puts on a DVD and we watch it. He's waiting for me to say something, I know. I'm not going to give him that satisfaction._

_Tonight he asked me about revenge. He asked me what I thought about the person who had ordered yours and Uncle Konosuke's deaths. I told him I didn't know. No matter how hard I think about it, I can't imagine myself avenging you. I know I can't do it. That's not what you want, is it? I'm sorry I can't do anything about your company, Father. I will when I get out of here though, I promise._

_I shouldn't be writing in this diary. I don't trust Uzumaki to keep his word. Do you think he will look if I hide it in the underwear drawer? _

_I miss you, Father. I feel silly for writing to you. It's not like you'll write back... but... let's not think about that. But if you do somehow read this and appear in my dreams or something, could you please tell me something? Is there really a limit to hatred?_

* * *

A/N: This fic is no longer just an experiment, I think. It's actually a challenge to write Naruto in a modern setting, with such a different set of characteristics. There are times when I really can't tell if the character I'm writing is even Naruto anymore. This chapter was unbelievably hard to write. I spent at least two hours trying to wrap it up. I'm pretty confused with it myself, actually.

The feedback I got from the last chapter was pretty interesting. Some people like Naruto in this AU, some don't. It's good to have these opinions. Readers are able to see much more of the story than the author (which is probably why there are always typos no matter how many times I proofread).

Also, just a little heads up. I just made a blog to keep track of my updates. If anyone wants to see how far I am in the next chapter for each of my multichapter stories, you can get the link from my profile.


	7. Simple Facts

A/N:Another story resurrected! I think this one is just younger than Precious People, at sixteen-ish months since the last update. Haha, better late than never, I guess. I tried to get this done yesterday as a birthday present to myself but was too occupied stuffing myself full with seafood and cake. I'm now eighteen! And to think most of my current stories were started when I was around fifteen. Reading the early chapters, like I did with Only Human today, it's rather obvious haha.

Recap of chapter 6: Sakura is still mad at Naruto for killing her Uncle Konosuke. Bummed out, she takes a shower and comes out looking for a shirt to see Naruto sitting on her bed. They have a 'crap, Sakura's topless' freak out episode, Naruto looks away while Sakura fetches a shirt and, mortified, she ends up whacking him with a pillow. Naruto takes Sakura out for McDonald's, getting a bit lost along the way. Naruto tries to comfort Sakura, slightly successfully, and they head home. Sakura writes in the diary Naruto gave her, a letter to her father, and (silly girl) hides it in the underwear drawer.

It may help to have a quick glance at the previous chapter to refresh your memory of the small details. Unlike PP, recaps aren't too helpful because this story is a lot less event-oriented.

Finally, here's the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Simple Facts**

The girl behind the counter noisily popped her bubblegum as she stared down at the four – no, _five_ – boxes piled before her. "You sure?" she eventually asked the customer.

A brief look of confusion flashed in his eyes. She waited for him to realise exactly what he was doing and bolt out the door – she'd seen more than one guy do it – but the young man simply nodded patiently.

"If you say so." The girl scanned the first package and glanced up at the customer as she reached for the second. She had to hand it to him; he didn't look the least bit embarrassed. In fact, the blonde man looked impatient and, if she looked for it, uncertain. Discomfort didn't seem to register to him at all. _Not bad-looking, either_. "First time?" she asked conversationally as she rang up the price.

"Huh?" The guy looked up from his wallet, his head cocked. He followed her meaningful glance down at the two plastic bags sitting between them, and smiled slowly. "Yeah, guess so." He handed over some notes and a fistful of coins. "Keep the change," he said when she grimaced and began to count. He gave a quick wave on his way out. "See ya."

The cashier absently swept the coins off the table to sort. That boy was quite a keeper. She sighed, reluctantly trampling over her lustful desires. To be buying stuff like that, he had to be taken. Lucky girl.

* * *

Outside the convenience store, Naruto Uzumaki sat in his car, frowning at his purchases. He still wasn't sure if he had gotten the right type, not to mention quantity. He hoped he had bought enough. If he had screwed up... well, no one could blame him.

Less than an hour ago, he had returned to his apartment after dealing with a sabotage assignment. Every now and then he received a mission that did not result in casualties – although he was usually sent in again on a later date. This time, he'd had to ensure that a certain private jet could not leave its hangar. The entire ordeal had taken less than twenty minutes but the two hours of travel had ensured that Naruto would not be home before the sun went down.

Disgruntled and hungry, he had headed upstairs to check on Sakura, as usual. He wasn't surprised to find the door unlocked. Sakura had gradually opened up a little, elevating their rocky relationship to a slightly more agreeable acquaintance, and although they were still a long way from becoming friends, Naruto was strangely uncomfortable with keeping her locked up. So he installed an additional lock on the front door that could not be opened from the inside without a code, and let Sakura roam the quarters, almost like it was her home.

She hadn't quite taken the new arrangement the way he'd expected.

"You're not afraid that I'll stab you in your sleep? Poison you?" she had asked – practically demanded.

He chuckled and, crossing his arms, leaned over so that their eyes were level. "But if you do either of those you'd be just like me, wouldn't you?" He grinned at her expression. "Don't you like me being nice to you?"

"No," she shot back darkly. "I never like it when people do things without reason. I hate it."

"In other words, you're scared."

Instead of snapping back, Sakura steadily looked him in the eye. "Is that a problem?"

"Only if you let it be," he replied easily, and that was that.

Sakura seemed to prefer the confines of her room and was particularly sensitive to having her 'territory' disturbed. Quite often Naruto entered her room only to slam into a wall of displeasure. He quickly grew used to it, though, and began to find it _very_ interesting.

Flying pillows, inquiries on dinner, angry remarks – he was prepared for all of them.

But blood on the bed? Not quite.

Naruto studied his reflection in the mirror, satisfactorily noting that the panic had long since left his eyes. With his upbringing it was rather hard to force down the rush of instinctive adrenaline that had burst forward at the sight of the crimson stain. His reaction had involved knives, plenty of evasive rolls, and busted bathroom doors.

What could he say? He hadn't exactly read _The Professional Assassin's Guide to Kidnapping Adolescent Girls_.

In other words, how was he supposed to know about menstrual cycles?

* * *

Sakura descended the stairs with as much dignity and grace as Cinderella without her glass slippers. She was determined to keep The Incident from being brought up even if it cost her life – but when Naruto looked up from setting the table to give her a bashful smirk, she felt herself twitch and before she could wish it back, her voice had betrayed her.

"You bought too much."

He scratched the back of his head. "Well… it's not like I know about that kind of stuff."

He even had the gall to look embarrassed. Unbelievable. It was in times like these that she had to remind herself who, and what, she was dealing with.

Dinner was bento boxes that Naruto had picked up on his way back from the convenience store. Sakura sat down. "Wasabi?" he offered. He looked aghast when she shook her head. "You don't like _wasabi_?"

"I don't like anything spicy," she admitted after a pause.

He seemed to have trouble digesting that. "What else don't you like?"

She gave him a sceptical look. "I'm a picky eater."

"Try me."

"Raw food."

He glanced down. "What, like sashimi?"

"Like sashimi."

"Oh."

Sakura followed his gaze. A throbbing headache and aching abdomen meant that she was slow to register the seafood bento sitting in front of her. "Oh," she said stupidly. "I mean, I can still-"

But right before her very eyes, her dinner rose on a tanned hand and glided away while another took its place. "Mine's vegetarian," Naruto explained.

She looked at him, an uncomfortable tension pulling her mouth in a small frown of protest. "You don't have to. It's fine."

"Too late," Naruto said around a mouthful of seaweed. Sakura wrinkled her nose. He swallowed with some difficulty, chased down the burning wasabi with Coke Zero, and nodded at her dinner. "Go on."

Eventually, she snapped her chopsticks and picked up a sushi. She eschewed even soy sauce. She had worked through two more in the time that it took Naruto to polish his bento. Out of sporadic habit, he began to watch her eat. Most nights Sakura told herself she couldn't care less – but today, she just didn't want him watching her with those icy, deceiving eyes that saw right through her.

"No appetite?" he inquired after she laboriously finished her fourth mouthful. She shook her head, and he fell silent. He did, however, pull her bento to his side of the table and slide a glass of water over to hers. She sipped the cool liquid slowly, closing her eyes.

"Why do you do that?" he asked suddenly.

Her eyes flew open. "What?"

"It hurts, doesn't it?" When she continued to stare vacantly at him, Naruto gestured ambiguously. "You know what I mean."

"… Cramps?" she said blankly.

"Yeah. Why do you do that?"

She blinked. Then narrowed her eyes. "You think I _choose_ to be in pain?"

He made a face. "No, not that. Why do you try so hard to pretend it doesn't hurt?"

Sakura watched Naruto Uzumaki carefully. She could never tell what he was thinking and not knowing actually scared her at times. She'd kept a close eye on him ever since he started to leave her room unbolted. Most days he was so surreally cheerful that she suspected its authenticity – but she could never tell. There were nights where unbroken silence reigned; there were no lame jokes and hazy questions about her past. It was during those phases that Sakura realised she was in fact orbiting around Naruto Uzumaki, analytically watching his every move like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had deceived her – she had no control at all.

Sakura rose from her chair. His eyes followed her. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked. She hated how sincere he sounded.

"No," she replied truthfully. "I just don't have the appetite."

As she turned to the stairs, Naruto spoke up. "You still haven't answered my question."

Sakura stopped and looked over her shoulder. She didn't always entertain him but she just wasn't in the mind to care. She met his eyes. "Because," she said quietly, "it doesn't stop hurting no matter what I do about it."

He held the gaze, blue eyes abruptly devoid of mirth and curiosity. "Goodnight," he said finally.

"Goodnight. Thanks for, um… yeah."

Naruto's gaze followed her thoughtfully as she climbed the stairs. Then he shook his head, finished the last sushi from Sakura's bento, and cleared the table. As he put the empty containers in the bin, his eyes lingered on the messy lime-coloured smudge on his lid and he tilted his head slightly. _How can she not like wasabi?_

The question faded away unanswered as his eyes narrowed at the sound of slight shuffling behind him. Naruto whirled around like a predatory python, startling the girl who had been standing several steps behind him, like she had been there for a while. Naruto blinked at her expression, a curious combination of self-control, shameful shock and red-faced embarrassment.

He rubbed the back of his neck, relaxing as she averted her gaze. "Sorry, did I scare you?" He knew her well enough to predict that shake of the head. "Are you still hungry?" Another no. Naruto's eyes travelled down to her curled fists, then back to her red face. "Are you mad at me or something?" he asked slowly.

"That's a really stupid question, you know," Sakura muttered. Then she suddenly sighed and faced him point-blank. "You have spare bed sheets, right?"

He stared blankly at her.

She gave him an exasperated look, barely contained. "Bed. Sheets."

He blinked. "Err, yeah, I have them. What do you need – oh." Her expression, if possible, went even redder. He could only wonder how much pride-swallowing it had taken for her to come back down and ask _him_ for something like this.

Naruto felt his own ears begin to heat up traitorously. Damn it, why couldn't Kazuo Haruno have had a son instead?

"Well?" Sakura muttered, sounding irritable. Now _that_ he knew about from being on the receiving end of Ino's sporadic tyranny too many times.

Naruto patted his hands dry on his jeans. "I'll change them for you. You just sit for a bit."

She frowned and crossed her arms. "Bed sheets cannot crack coded locks, last time I checked."

He blinked at her. Then he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, wow!" Sakura Haruno was funny. Who would have thought? She also seemed to have a short temper. Naruto snorted hastily. "Okay, okay. I'm serious, just wait while I change them. Won't take long."

"But-" Sakura's voice broke off not because Naruto came towards her. No, it was because he _touched_ her. He put his hands on her shoulders, spun her around and marched her to the couch, chuckling under his breath the entire time. Eventually snapping to her senses, Sakura pulled free and spun to face him. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

He held up his hands in surrender. Sakura was surprised to see a strange… self-consciousness on his face. His ears were pink. In the back of her mind, she wondered if that strange sensation in her chest was surprise; surprise that Naruto Uzumaki was, for once predictable. Sometimes, the ability to kill a man bare-handed in God knows how many ways didn't mean much. Only to Sakura, it always would; it would always linger in her subconsciousness, tinting the eyes with which she viewed the boy who had somehow taken and given her a life.

Naruto looked into her eyes, then meaningfully at the couch. "Just… sit."

Slowly, Sakura did. She looked expectantly up at her captor, eyebrows raised. He was studying her. Then, hesitantly, he reached a hand toward her. Sakura shrank away slightly but the back of the couch was behind her. His palm pressed flat against her forehead. "You don't have a fever," Naruto said curiously.

She tried not to squirm. "Of course I don't."

"What, so it just hurts?" There was an almost childish wonder in his voice that would normally have made Sakura laugh. But it was Uzumaki.

Not knowing what he expected her to say, she just nodded. "Is there anything I can get you?" he asked after a pause. "Because you look pretty bad. I've got heaps of painkillers if you need them."

His cool, blue eyes studied Sakura's tired face thoughtfully. She looked expressionlessly into them, wondering if that was concern in those icy eyes – the same ones that still haunted her from that night. Sakura ripped her gaze away before she could get pulled in again, jaw clenched.

Not looking at him, she closed her eyes and let her body slide down the couch to rest against the cushions, her legs dangling from the edge. She'd said the pain would never go away, and Naruto knew it was her way of saying she would never forgive him. He didn't need it. But he couldn't just watch her lie there, arms cinched around her midsection as she tried not to show it.

In the end, he got her a glass of warm water. Her eyes were still closed, breathing as if she had fallen asleep. But as he turned away, she mumbled, "Can you turn on the TV?" He obliged, putting it on a low volume. Before he headed upstairs, he glanced back at her; lying on the couch, Sakura Haruno looked… 'vulnerable' was only the second-best word. 'Young' was the first.

But they were the same age, weren't they?

Sakura slowly opened her eyes when she heard Naruto's footsteps fade. She idly watched the flickers of football on the large screen. Eventually, her eyes fell on the glass of water on the table. She reached out and brushed her fingers against it, feeling its warmth seep into her clammy skin. Something tugged at her chest, making her grimace and coil in on herself.

Hotaru would make her brown sugar water when she had cramps. Father told her it had been her mother's secret formula. It worked most of the time, but Sakura had never been naïve enough to believe that it was a universal solution. All it did was numb the pain for a moment.

Sakura let her eyes fall shut again. The low sports commentary teased her ears. Uzumaki had touched her so casually, at the same time so consciously gentle and careful. He'd tried to help, and that for some reason made her clench her teeth. She hated the realisation and abhorred the thought, but deep down, Sakura knew some part of her had wanted him to stay and sit with her. He didn't have to speak – she didn't want to hear his voice. She just wanted to know that someone was there, wanted to pretend that her only companion until the uncertain future wasn't a boy she would never be able to look at without _remembering_.

With a soft groan, Sakura turned her face into the cushion. Pathetic. She was so, so pathetic. She definitely needed to find a way out if she was going to have to face this every single month.

OoOoO

It took nearly half an hour of turning out the wardrobe for Naruto conclude that, on second thought, he didn't really have spare bed sheets lying around. At one point, he accidentally went through a drawer he shouldn't have and knocked his knuckles against something hard that certainly did not qualify as underwear. Cautiously, he picked up a familiar diary and for a long moment, simply stared at it. Then he put it back, awkwardly rearranged the drawer, and shut it. A promise was a promise.

After scrubbing the mattress, he fixed it with his own bed sheet. He hadn't changed it in over a month but it would have to do. That and he looked forward to whatever deadly glare Sakura would fire at him when she woke up reeking of his scent. That would be a sight to see.

Chuckling, Naruto went downstairs with the dirty sheets. He stuffed them into the already overflowing bin. He'd just get new ones tomorrow.

He had tried to finish washing the dishes as silently as he could, but his company slipped his mind when he fell back on the armchair with a large sigh. Remembering, he glanced back at where Sakura had fallen asleep on the couch. It was hard to realise how tensely she had been holding herself around him until he saw her smooth, tranquil expression as she slumbered. Naruto smiled slightly when he saw that she had drank the water he'd left for her.

His eyes fell on the clock. It was half past eleven. Two hours away, a certain politician would be discovering that his pilot could not get his private jet to start up. By now, last week's target had probably had a burial already. In another thirty minutes, a woman would mourn the anniversary she shared with a man who she hadn't seen in a year and never would again, because of someone on the other side of the world.

He was everywhere. That was the revelation Naruto had reached after his first international assignment. That had been over three years ago. Now, he was here.

Naruto's gaze pulled back to Sakura's sleeping figure. The fact that she was here, too, sometimes eluded him. Sometimes, it felt like Sakura Haruno had lived within these walls with him for longer than she had. Sometimes, he had to think to remember what it was like coming home to an empty house and immediately switching on the radio, to fill the hollow space with the false sounds of life.

After a while, Naruto shook his head to clear his mind, and rose to his feet. He slipped an arm under Sakura's shoulders and another under her legs. "Up we go, Sleeping Beauty," he murmured with a small chuckle.

Then the doorbell rang.

He didn't freeze anymore – it had long been drilled into him that there was no time to freeze. But Naruto's eyes did narrow with cool, calculated sharpness as they flickered to the door. He stood still, Sakura warm and strangely light in his arms. An impatient knock thumped against the reinforced wood and Naruto's expression shifted thoughtfully.

He carefully lowered Sakura back onto the couch, while the thumping escalated. There was no doubt about it now. Naruto had removed the peephole after he'd taken out a target through something similar, but it wasn't like he needed to check when his late-night visitor was making himself blatantly obvious.

Punching in the code, he pulled the door wide open. "Hey bastard," Naruto greeted amiably. "Missed me so much you couldn't sleep?"

His greeting was met with raised eyebrows. His visitor's gaze flashed past Naruto's ear, into the apartment – but without breaking the easy smile, the blonde shifted his footing to put his unkempt hair in his line of sight. The dark eyes shifted back to blue ones, giving Naruto enough warning to sigh in resignation even before the flat voice questioned: "Pads?"

"Don't remind me," the blonde grimaced. His tone betrayed none of the subtle caution that shifted his casual stance as he moved to plant himself firmly in the doorway. "So… was the great Sasuke Uchiha so bored that he decided his cooler and handsomer best friend was worth tailing?"

The raven-haired man snorted. "Wrong. Especially the best friend bit."

"Oh, so not the cooler and handsomer bit?"

"You forgot idiotic. Very idiotic." The atmosphere morphed into something heavier, almost foreboding, as Sasuke regarded his companion. His black eyes were murky. "Police and the media are looking for a missing heiress, and you are buying sanitary napkins as if preparing for a nuclear meltdown." He paused, crossing his arms. "Soon they won't be the only ones looking, dobe."

The blonde said nothing. Both of them knew better than to discuss the Agency in the open. When Naruto did not move from the door, Sasuke stepped forward to nonchalantly shoulder his way through. The arm barring his access tensed. "Not now, Sasuke," Naruto said in a low voice.

A flicker of annoyance flashed across the chiselled face. Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "This is exactly why I checked up on you."

Naruto frowned, knowing precisely what he was talking about. He wondered about it too, why he had automatically resisted the man closest to a friend as any person could be to someone like him. He hesitated – that was enough for Sasuke to grip a pressure point that temporarily numbed Naruto's arm, and brush past.

There were three provisional weapons within Naruto's reach and he could have incapacitated his visitor in nine different ways. But he did nothing except let Sasuke step in front of him – partially because he knew the latter could easily deflect seven of those hazards, and Naruto was reluctant to injure him with the remaining two methods. If anything, the unexplainable territorialism he felt only deepened his frown.

So Naruto only closed the door behind them, shaking out his tingling hand. Sasuke had stopped at the sight of the sleeping girl on the couch. Then, slowly, he lowered himself into the armchair furthest away. Naruto deliberately avoided his intense gaze as he went into the kitchen. "Coke alright?" he called.

"Hn."

Head in the fridge, Naruto rolled his eyes. He supposed he should be glad that Sasuke hadn't changed in the seven months that they hadn't seen each other. Distantly, he realised that Sasuke's mere presence should speak volumes for how undeniably _stupid_ Naruto had behaved to result in Sakura Haruno sleeping on his couch. Unrestrained. And alive.

Sasuke deftly caught the can Naruto tossed at him. He was on the verge of opening it when he seemed to remember something. It took Naruto a beat to catch on, and when he did he grinned. "Damn, I forgot." He sounded genuinely sorry.

Sasuke continued to eye the can suspiciously.

Naruto chuckled. "Seriously, I forgot. It's safe."

"If you're lying, I'll tell the Agency about her," Sasuke warned.

Naruto supposed he should be glad for the lack of fizzing foam erupting from his companion's drink. As it was, he hardly noticed it. He was distracted by what he knew to be an empty threat, as always. It wasn't out of compassion so much as it was a matter of principle; those of their profession did not touch another's business unless it became a threat to themselves. They looked after their own – which for most of them, only vouched for themselves. Naruto had lived his life and survived on this simple philosophy. Even now, he reminded himself that Sakura was only here because of that mindset.

Aware that Sasuke Uchiha was the embodiment of that same philosophy, Naruto turned to his childhood friend. "What's the matter, Sasuke?" he asked teasingly. "Are you here because you're worried about me?"

Sasuke scowled. "When will you get it into that thick skull that the only reason I haven't killed you for all those pranks is the debt I owe you?" He shot a meaningful glare at the blonde. "That _you_ keep dangling over my head like a carrot."

His companion only grinned. But it did not escape Sasuke that Naruto continued to glance at the couch's occupant as he casually lowered himself into the opposite armchair. It made the Uchiha snort quietly. They both knew that Sasuke couldn't care less for Sakura Haruno, dead or alive. Only curiosity kept him in his seat, along with a vague twinge of something foreign that Sasuke decidedly asserted was _not_ concern.

"Are you going to tell me why you have a target's daughter in your living room?" Sasuke asked impatiently. "Do I even want to hear it?"

Naruto contemplated simply saying no. Only he realised that it wasn't about pride, that maybe he needed to be told how illogical his decision had been. "She's a witness," he muttered shortly. Pride or not, it still wasn't easy to admit.

Sasuke was glad he hadn't been drinking at that moment. "She _saw_ you? I can't believe you're still so careless."

"Shut up," Naruto grumbled. Only Sasuke Uchiha could rile him so quickly and easily, could make him bicker like the children they'd once been and were still supposed to be. He was proud to say that he at least had the same effect on the other boy.

A shake of the dark head. "She saw you, so you kidnapped her and kept her in your apartment." Sasuke studied Sakura Haruno's face, the steady rise and fall of her chest with each breath. "You kept her alive," he clarified.

Naruto shrugged with one shoulder. "That's what it looks like, doesn't it?"

"I shouldn't have to remind you that the ocean is a twenty five minute drive away."

Naruto regarded his colleague with a quirked eyebrow and a defeated smile. Sasuke knew that look. It reflected a hopeless and childish fantasy that had no place in the merciless body containing it. At times, Naruto could be more efficient than Sasuke – better even. But he had an assassin's worst weakness, and that was damning enough for anyone involved with him.

"You weren't this soft before you spent too much time around that old perverted fool," Sasuke told him. He almost sighed when he noticed Naruto's brief grimace of pain. He hadn't seen that look in a while.

Naruto gulped down more soft drink, chasing down memories that could have been fond, but which he'd been forced to suppress just so he could keep living the way he did. "You make that sound like a bad thing."

"If it gets you into these silly situations, what else could it be?" Sasuke gave his colleague a sharp, meaningful look. "By this point, the Agency might actually want you eliminated for this. When they find out."

"She's not doing anything." His companion only looked at him, and eventually Naruto had to silently agree. So far, Sakura hadn't made a threat of herself, but there was no guarantee that she would remain this complacent. Instead of voicing this, Naruto shrugged. "They'd need another S-rank to take me."

Both men's eyes flickered up to catch each other's gaze. It was a calm, casual exchange, but something indiscernible flashed between them. Then, as if he couldn't care less, Sasuke said, "Probably me."

"We've never really fought seriously, have we, Sasuke?" Of course they hadn't. 'Seriously' meant going for the kill, a primitive instinct neither of them were certain they could restrain when a friendly spar came down to the grit and adrenaline.

Sasuke took too long contemplating his answer and Naruto was content to let it slide. "That's if they ever find out about her," he added lightly.

The look Sasuke fixed him with was almost exasperated. "_I'm_ here, aren't I?" he pointed out. Why, he didn't really know. Naruto had always had a strange effect on the calm Uchiha. Ever since they had been children, Naruto was the only reason Sasuke got into trouble at the orphanage. Maybe it was that long time acquaintance – something both of them agreed was better off forgotten when they'd met again in the Agency's halls – that made Sasuke sigh. "Are you getting anything out of this?" he wanted to know.

It was something he had spent far too many hours pondering on in the first weeks. Naruto shook his head wryly.

"So you're not using her?"

He was confused for a moment, eyebrows pulling together in a puzzled frown. Then Naruto's eyes widened with genuine shock. "What? No! God, Sasuke, how low do you think I can get?"

His outburst made the Uchiha roll his eyes. "They might have let it pass if you used that as an excuse. Of course, their opinion of you would need reassessment." Naruto still looked disturbed when Sasuke cut to the chase. "Humour me… why haven't you disposed of her already?"

Naruto stopped, his gaze wandering over to Sakura once more. He'd gotten accustomed to her presence, so much that he only now appreciated how absurd it must look to Sasuke, who was meticulous down to the last detail and allowed no mistakes. Sakura Haruno was the biggest mistake any assassin could make.

Finally, Naruto looked away. He didn't meet Sasuke's quiet gaze. Instead, he watched the beads of moisture on his Coke can tremble and crawl down the chilled surface, as if disturbed by the soft breathing of the room's occupants. "Sasuke?"

"What?"

Naruto opened his mouth, held his breath to gather the thoughts. Then he closed it with a quiet chuckle. If he tried to explain that Sakura Haruno reminded him of what it was like to be human – to hate someone so much yet die at the thought of putting a knife into their father's murderer – Sasuke would think he was developing an unhealthy attraction to the girl. He wouldn't understand. Sasuke was more morally decent than most of their other colleagues, but Naruto knew his friend simply wouldn't comprehend the notion. Naruto was so certain because he knew that, three years ago, he wouldn't have been able to either.

So he just smiled wanly at those unreadable eyes. "I guess Jiraiya taught me better than that."

As expected, Sasuke reacted to the name, even if it was just a twitch of the corner of his mouth. He hid his disapproval well, and only watched silently as Naruto set his can down and got up. The blonde boy bent over the couch, gathering the girl in his arms. "Be back in a sec."

Alone was the only way Sasuke Uchiha could think properly. It was also the only way he could allow himself to express the troublesome emotions that sometimes interfered with his lifestyle. As soon as Naruto was out of sight, Sasuke shook his head and sighed. He didn't care, of course, but sometimes – sometimes he felt something when he thought about how Naruto's utter idiocy would get the best of him. He closed his eyes and reclined in the armchair, listening for the sounds of the radio that had once been ever-present in the spacious apartment.

* * *

"Sorry we woke you."

It was that easy tone and those simple words that made Sakura release a long breath, abandoning the soft, regular rhythm she thought she'd maintained so well. It seemed not. She was silent as he carried her up the last steps. She realised she was tense for some reason, wary, but Naruto showed no change in attitude.

She slowly opened her eyes when they paused outside her room. With his arms full with her, Naruto had trouble opening it. Grateful for the chance to lift her head off his chest, Sakura reached out to twist the knob and let them in.

He deposited her on the bed. "You should get some sleep. I put the, err, pads in the bathroom."

Sakura nodded absently. As he turned to leave, the words let her lips in a quiet, uncontrollable rush, "Is he the same as you?"

Naruto looked over his shoulder, his eyes settling on her. "A killer, you mean," he confirmed lightly. He was smiling in the dim moonlight that illuminated the room, but it was almost like a facade. "As if you don't already know," he said pointedly, a half-decent attempt at mockery.

She supposed she did. She'd heard enough to be surprised that they'd discussed what they had so unguardedly in her presence – and by now she was certain that both of them must have noticed immediately when she'd stirred. Then again, Sakura thought, there was no reason for them to be secretive in front of someone so easily disposed of. That man with the quiet, dry voice, Sasuke, had reminded her that she was living on Naruto's whim. A chill ran through her.

Looking at him now, half-turned away from her with one hand on the door, Sakura felt something odd rise in her chest. Her throat tingled, almost like she wanted to _talk_ to him. But she lowered her head and forced it down. After a while, the shadow on the floor seemed to shrug. "Goodnight."

Sakura just nodded. Even when the door had clicked shut – no lock, she noted with the usual, slight wonder – she just sat on the bed unmoving. Eventually, she realised she was straining to hear the conversation the two boys were having downstairs, but they spoke so softly that it was impossible. It was… weird. There were only three of them, and yet the apartment already felt too small.

Sakura fell back against the pillows, stretching out on the bed. The sheets had been changed. If she hadn't gone down to request it, she probably wouldn't have noticed the late night visit. Had Naruto had other visitors while she was under his custody? Had they known she was under the same roof?

The relentless influx of questions milling in her mind bothered Sakura. When had she grown interested in understanding the anomaly that was Naruto Uzumaki, murderer and single source of her misery? It almost frightened her and she pursed her lips as she wondered where the anger and blame had gone, trying to remember exactly when that terrible, painful burn that scorched her chest every time she laid eyes on him had dulled into weaker disgruntlement.

She'd felt exposed lying on the couch with a stranger's detached voice discussing her. Finally, someone had reacted predictably to her presence; she could tell by his tone that 'Sasuke' thought Naruto should have simply gotten rid of her. Listening to how ruthless this 'Agency' could react to Sakura had renewed the question that still gnawed at her. Why did Naruto keep her around, alive?

"_I guess Jiraiya taught me better than that."_

Sakura had no idea who this Jiraiya could be, only that he was the reason she was still breathing. Thanks to him, Naruto had silently protected her from Sasuke's unfailing logic. It struck Sakura at that moment that Naruto Uzumaki downright defied conventional logic. He just didn't make _sense_.

She'd noticed that he had changed slightly around Sasuke. He was less talkative, quieter, yet at the same time more cheerful and almost relaxed. It made her wonder if this was the Naruto Uzumaki beneath the layers of cold, impenetrable killer and overly-exuberant teenager.

Sakura stared unseeingly at the ceiling. Then, decisively, she came down hard on the wild stream that had become her thoughts. Thinking too much could be lethal. She didn't _want_ to know Uzumaki. He didn't matter to her, just like she was nothing more than a moral complication to him. It was better that she didn't understand him, no matter how much it unsettled her.

Sakura turned her face into the bed with a frown. She hated that she was so sensitive today. She also hated that the pillow and sheets smelled like her captor, an eccentric blend of instant foods, leaves and iron.

Wrinkling her nose, Sakura pulled the blanket over her head and tried to pretend that she was far away, back home with her patient father and kind servants, back in a life that had been so much simpler.


End file.
